Liidlov 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW 


You  can  pay  Jive  cents  to  the  Elevated  Railroad  and  get 
here,  or  you  can  put  some  other  man's  nickel  in  your  own 
slot  and  come  here  with  an  attendant  (Page  2) 


A  GUEST 
AT  THE  LUDLOW 

AND  OTHER  STORIES 

BY 

EDGAR  WILSON   NYE 

I/ 

[BILL  NYE] 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
LOUIS  BRAUNHOLD 


INDIANAPOLIS  AND  KANSAS  CITY 

THE  BOWEN-MERRILL  COMPANY 

M  DCCC  XCVII 


Copyright,  1896 

BY 

THE  BOWEN-MERRILL  CO. 


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91S91V 


This  volume  was  prepared  for 
publication  by  the  author  a  few 
months  before  his  death,  and  is 
now  published  by  arrangement 
with  Mrs.  Edgar  Wilson  Nye. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE. 

I.  A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW 1 

II.  OLD  POLKA  DOT'S  DAUGHTER       •      .      .       .  13 

III.  A  GEEAT  CEREBRATOR 22 

IV.  HINTS  FOE  THE  HOUSEHOLD    .....  33 
V.  A  JOURNEY  WESTWAED 42 

VI.  A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE 52 

VII.  THE  SABBATH  OF  A  GEEAT  AUTHOR         ...  64 

VIII.  A  FLYER  IN  DIET     .       ...      .       .       .  69 

IX.  A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET"      . 81 

X.  MY  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU 92 

XI.  THE  HATEFUL  HEN      ........  99 

XII.  As  A  CANDIDATE       .......  108 

XIII.  SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS      .       .       .       .123 

XIV.  THREE  OPEN  LETTERS 134 

XV.  THE  DUBIOUS  FUTUEE 144 

XVI.  EAENING  A  REWARD 156 

XVII.  A  PLEA  FOR  JUSTICE 162 

XVIII.  GRAINS  OF  TRUTH 168 

XIX.  A  SCAMPEE  THROUGH  THE  PAEK       .       .       .       .179 

XX.  HINTS  TO  THE  TEAVELER 187 

XXI.  A  MEDIEVAL  DISCOVERER 201 

XXII.  How  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIETHPLACE        ...  208 

i  XXIII.  ON  BROADWAY      . 218 

XXIV.  MY  TRIP  TO  DIXIE 222 

XXV.  THE  THOUGHT  CLOTHIER 228 

XXVI.  A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS     .       .       .-    .       .       .  233 

XXVII.  ADVICE  TO  A  SON 243 

XXVIII.  THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY 254 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

You  can  pay  five  cents  to  the  Elevated  Railroad  and  get  here,  or 
you  can  put  some  other  man's  nickel  in  your  own  slot  and 
come  here  with  an  attendant  ....  Frontispiece 

His  old  look  of  apprehensive  cordiality  did  not  leave  him  until 
he  had  seen  me  climb  on  a  load  of  hay  with  my  trunk  and  start 
for  home  .  .  .  .  . 13 

Then  they  tied  a  string  of  sleighbells  to  his  tail,  and  hit  him  a 
smart,  stinging  blow  with  a  black  snake  ....  27 

My  idea  was  to  apply  it  to  the  wall  mostly,  but  the  chair  tipped, 
and  so  I  papered  the  piano  and  my  wife  on  the  way  down  .  36 

Frogs  build  their  nests  there  in  the  spring  and  rear  their  young, 
but  people  never  go  there 45 

I  improved  the  time  by  cultivating  the  acquaintance  of  the  beauti 
ful  and  picturesque  outcasts  known  as  the  Piute  Indians  .  57 

He  sometimes  succeeds  in  getting  himself  disliked  by  some  other 
dog  and  then  I  can  observe  the  fight  .  .  .  .  .67 

Then  rolling  my  trousers  up  a  yard  or  two,  I  struck  off  into  the 
scrub  pine,  carrying  with  me  a  large  board  .  .  .  .74 

He  looked  up  sadly  at  me  with  his  one  eye  as  who  should  say, 
"Have  you  got  any  more  of  that  there  red  paint  left?"  .  105 

"Mr.  Nye,  on  behalf  of  this  vast  assemblage  (tremulo),  I  thank 
God  that  you  are  POOR!!!" 115 

Three  or  four  times  as  much  oxygen  is  consumed  in  activity  as  in 
repose,  hence  the  hornets'  nests  introduced  by  me  last  season .  134 

Playing  billiards,  accompanied  by  the  vicious  habit  of  pounding 
on  the  floor  with  the  butt  of  the  cue  ever  and  anon,  produces 
at  last  optical  illusions 149 


PAGE 

Mr.  Whatley  hadn't  gone  more  than  half  a  mile  when  he  heard  the 
wild  and  disappointed  yells  of  the  Salvation  army  .  .159 

"  I  was  in  a  large,  cool  hosspital  which  smelt  strong  of  some  forrin 
substans.  The  hed  doctor  had  been  breathing  on  me  and  so  I 
come  too"  .  .  ,  .  .  .  ,.  .  .  163 

Said  the  Governor  as  he  swung  around  with  his  feet  over  in  our 
part  of  the  carriage  and  asked  me  for  a  light  .  ,  .181 

He  therefore  had  to  borrow  a  bald-headed  man  to  act  as  bust  for 
him  in  the  evening  ,  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  I94 

It  was  at  this  time  that  he  noticed  the  swinging  of  a  lamp  In  a 
church,  and  observing  that  the  oscillations  were  of  equal  dura 
tion  .  . ,02 

Here  Andrew  turned  the  grindstone  In  the  shed,  while  a  large, 
heavy  neighbor  got  on  and  rode  for  an  hour  or  two  .  .  210 

"  A  man  that  crosses  Broadway  for  a  year  can  be  mayor  of  Boston, 
but  my  idee  Is  that  he's  a  heap  more  likely  to  be  mayor  of  the 
New  Jerusalem "  .  .  .  .  ...  .  .  a20 

I  bought  tickets  at  Cincinnati  of  a  pale,  sallow  liar,  who  is  just 
beginning  to  work  his  way  up  to  the  forty-ninth  degree  in  the 
Order  of  Ananias  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  222 

In  hotels  it  will  take  the  mental  strain  off  the  bell-boy,  relieving 
him  also  of  a  portion  of  his  burdensome  salary  at  the  same 
time  .  . a56 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW 
I 

WE  are  stopping  quietly  here,  taking 
our  meals  in  our  rooms  mostly,  and 
going  out  very  little  indeed.  When  I  say 
we,  I  use  the  term  editorially. 

We  notice  first  of  all  the  great  contrast  be 
tween  this  and  other  hotels,  and  in  several 
instances  this  one  is  superior.  In  the  first 
place,  there  is  a  sense  of  absolute  security 
when  one  goes  to  sleep  here  that  can  not  be 
felt  at  a  popular  hotel,  where  burglars  secrete 
themselves  in  the  wardrobe  during  the  day 
and  steal  one's  pantaloons  and  contents  at 
night.  This  is  one  of  the  compensations  of 
life  in  prison. 

Here  the  burglars  go  to  bed  at  the  hour* 
that  the  rest  of  us  do.  We  all  retire  at 
the  same  time,  and  a  murderer  can  not  sit  up 
I 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

any  later  at  night  than  the  smaller  or  un- 
knpw'ft  crimirial;cari.  : 

You  t  can  get  to  Ludlpw  Street  Jail  by  tak- 
'••  trig  >'*tfc  {$£Cpnd4  j  ^wenue  Elevated  train  to 
Grand  street,  and  hen  going  east  two  blocks, 
or  you  can  fire  a  shotgun  into  a  Sabbath- 
school. 

You  can  pay  five  cents  to  the  Elevated 
Railroad  and  get  here,  or  you  can  put  some 
other  man's  nickel  in  your  own  slot  and  come 
here  with  an  attendant. 

William  Marcy  Tweed  was  the  contractor 
of  Ludlow  Street  Jail,  and  here  also  he  died. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  poor  chair-maker,  and 
was  born  April  3,  1823.  From  the  chair 
business  in  1853  to  congress  was  the  first 
false  step.  Exhilarated  by  the  delirium  of 
official  life,  and  the  false  joys  of  franking 
his  linen  home  every  week,  and  having  cake 
and  preserves  franked  back  to  him  at  Wash 
ington,  he  resolved  to  still  further  taste  the 
delights  of  office,  and  in  1857  we  find  him 
as  a  school  commissioner. 

In  1860  he  became  Grand  Sachem  of  the 
Tammany  Society,  an  association  at  that  time 
2 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

more  purely  political  than  politically  pure. 
As  president  of  the  board  of  supervisors, 
head  of  the  department  of  public  works, 
state  senator,  and  Grand  Sachem  of  Tam 
many,  Tweed  had  a  large  and  seductive  influ 
ence  over  the  city  and  state.  The  story  of 
how  he  earned  a  scanty  livelihood  by  steal 
ing  a  million  of  dollars  at  a  pop,  and  thus, 
with  the  most  rigid  economy,  scraped  to 
gether  $20,000,000  in  a  few  years  by  patient 
industry  and  smoking  plug  tobacco,  has  been 
frequently  told. 

Tweed  was  once  placed  here  in  Ludlow 
Street  Jail  in  default  of  $3,000,000  bail. 
How  few  there  are  of  us  who  could  slap  up 
that  amount  of  bail  if  rudely  gobbled  on  the 
street  by  the  hand  of  the  law.  While  riding 
out  with  the  sheriff,  in  1875,  Tweed  asked  to 
see  his  wife,  and  said  he  would  be  back  in  a 
minute. 

He  came  back  by  way  of  Spain,  in  the  fall 
of  '76,  looking  much  improved.  But  the 
malaria  and  dissipation  of  Blackwell's  Island 
afterwards  impaired  his  health,  and  having 
done  time  there,  and  having  been  arrested 
3 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

afterwards  and  placed  in  Ludlow  Street  Jail, 
he  died  here  April  12,  1878,  leaving  behind 
him  a  large,  vain  world,  and  an  equally  vain 
judgment  for  $6,537, 1 17.38,  to  which  he  said 
he  would  give  his  attention  as  soon  as  he 
could  get  a  paving  contract  in  the  sweet  ulti 
mately. 

From  the  exterior  Ludlow  Street  Jail  looks 
somewhat  like  a  conservatory  of  music,  but  as 
soon  as  one  enters  he  readily  discovers  his 
mistake.  The  structure  has  100  feet  front 
age,  and  a  court,  which  is  sometimes  called 
the  court  of  last  resort.  The  guest  can  climb 
out  of  this  court  by  ascending  a  polished  brick 
wall  about  100  feet  high,  and  then  letting 
himself  down  in  a  similar  way  on  the  Ludlow 
street  side. 

That  one  thing  is  doing  a  great  deal 
towards  keeping  quite  a  number  of  people 
here  who  would  otherwise,  I  think,  go  away. 

James  D.  Fish  and  Ferdinand  Ward  both 
remained  here  prior  to  their  escape  to  Sing 
Sing.  Red  Leary,  also,  made  his  escape 
from  this  point,  but  did  not  succeed  in  reach 
ing  the  penitentiary.  Forty  thousand  pris- 
4 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

oners  have  been  confined  in  Ludlow  Street 
Jail,  mostly  for  civil  offenses.  A  man  in  New 
York  runs  a  very  short  career  if  he  tries  to  be 
offensively  civil. 

As  you  enter  Ludlow  Street  Jail  the  door 
is  carefully  closed  after  you,  and  locked  by 
means  of  an  iron  lock  about  the  size  of  a  pic 
torial  family  Bible.  You  then  remain  on  the 
inside  for  quite  a  spell.  You  do  not  hear  the 
prattle  of  soiled  children  any  more.  All  the 
glad  sunlight,  and  stench-condensing  pave 
ments,  and  the  dark-haired  inhabitants  of  Riv- 
ington  street,  are  seen  no  longer,  and  the 
heavy  iron  storm-door  shuts  out  the  wail  of 
the  combat  from  the  alley  near  by.  Ludlow 
Street  Jail  may  be  surrounded  by  a  very  mis 
erable  and  dirty  quarter  of  the  city,  but  when 
you  get  inside  all  is  changed. 

You  register  first.  There  is  a  good  pen 
there  that  you  can  write  with,  and  the  clerk 
does  not  chew  tolu  and  read  a  sporting  paper 
while  you  wait  for  a  room.  He  is  there  to 
attend  to  business,  and  he  attends  to  it.  He 
does  not  seem  to  care  whether  you  have  any 
baggage  or  not.  You  can  stay  here  for  days, 
5 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

even  if  you  don't  have  any  baggage.  All 
you  need  is  a  kind  word  and  a  mittimus  from 
the  court. 

One  enters  this  sanitarium  either  as  a 
boarder  or  a  felon.  If  you  decide  to  come 
in  as  a  boarder,  you  pay  the  warden  $15  a 
week  for  the  privilege  of  sitting  at  his  table 
and  eating  the  luxuries  of  the  market.  You 
also  get  a  better  room  than  at  many  hotels, 
and  you  have  a  good  strong  door,  with  a  pad 
lock  on  it,  which  enables  you  to  prevent  the 
sudden  and  unlooked-for  entrance  of  the 
chambermaid.  It  is  a  good-sized  room,  with 
a  wonderful  amount  of  seclusion,  a  plain  bed, 
table,  chairs,  carpet  and  so  forth.  After  a 
few  weeks  at  the  seaside,  at  $19  per  day,  I 
think  the  room  in  which  I  am  writing  is  not 
unreasonable  at  $2. 

Still,  of  course,  we  miss  the  sea  breeze. 

You  can  pay  $50  to  $100  per  week  here  if 
you  wish,  and  get  your  money's  worth,  too. 
For  the  latter  sum  one  may  live  in  the  bridal 
chamber,  so  to  speak,  and  eat  the  very  best 
food  all  the  time. 

Heavy  iron  bars  keep  the  mosquitoes  out, 
6 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

and  at  night  the  house  is  brilliantly  lighted 
by  incandescent  lights  of  one-candle  power 
each.  Neat  snuffers,  consisting  of  the  thumb 
and  forefinger  polished  on  the  hair,  are  to  be 
found  in  each  occupied  room. 

Bread  is  served  to  the  Freshmen  and  Jun 
iors  in  rectangular  wads.  It  is  such  bread  as 
convicts'  tears  have  moistened  many  thousand 
years.  In  that  way  it  gets  quite  moist. 

The  most  painful  feature  about  life  in  Lud- 
low  Street  Jail  is  the  confinement.  One  can 
not  avoid  a  feeling  of  being  constantly  ham 
pered  and  hemmed  in. 

One  more  disagreeable  thing  is  the  great 
social  distinction  here.  The  poor  man  who 
sleeps  in  a  stone  niche  near  the  roof,  and  who 
is  constantly  elbowed  and  hustled  out  of  his 
bed  by  earnest  and  restless  vermin  with -a  ten 
dency  toward  insomnia,  is  harassed  by  meet 
ing  in  the  court-yard  and  corridors  the  paying 
boarders  who  wear  good  clothes,  live  well, 
have  their  cigars,  brandy  and  Kentucky  Sec 
all  the  time. 

The  McAllister  crowd  here  is  just  as  ex 
clusive  as  it  is  on  the  outside. 
7 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

But,  great  Scott !  what  a  comfort  it  is  to  a 
man  like  me,  who  has  been  nearly  killed  by 
a  cyclone,  to  feel  the  firm,  secure  walls  and 
solid  time  lock  when  he  goes  to  bed  at  night ! 
Even  if  I  can  not  belong  to  the  400,  I  am 
almost  happy. 

We  retire  at  7:30  o'clock  at  night  and  arise 
at  6:30  in  the  morning,  so  as  to  get  an  early 
start.  A  man  who  has  five  or  ten  years  to 
stay  in  a  place  like  this  naturally  likes  to  get 
at  it  as  soon  as  possible  each  day,  and  so  he 
gets  up  at  6:30. 

We  dress  by  the  gaudy  light  of  the  candle, 
and  while  we  do  so,  we  remember  far  away 
at  home  our  wife  and  the  little  boy  asleep  in 
her  arms.  They  do  not  get  up  at  6:30.  It 
is  at  this  hour  we  remember  the  fragrant 
drawer  in  the  dresser  at  home  where  our 
clean  shirts,  and  collars  and  cuffs,  and  socks 
and  handkerchiefs,  are  put  every  week  by 
our  wife.  We  also  recall  as  we  go  about  our 
stone  den,  with  its  odor  of  former  corned  beef, 
and  the  ghost  of  some  bloody-handed  pred 
ecessor's  snore  still  moaning  in  the  walls, 
8 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

the  picture  of  green  grass  by  our  own  door 
way,  and  the  apples  that  were  just  ripening, 
when  the  bench  warrant  came. 

The  time  from  6:30  to  breakfast  is  occu 
pied  by  the  average,  or  non-paying  inmate, 
in  doing  the  chamberwork  and  tidying  up  his 
state-room.  I  do  not  know  how  others  feel 
about  it,  but  I  dislike  chamberwork  most 
heartily,  especially  when  I  am  in  jail.  Noth 
ing  has  done  more  to  keep  me  out  of  jail,  I 
guess,  than  the  fact  that  while  there  I  have 
to  make  up  my  bed  and  dust  the  piano. 

Breakfast  is  generally  table  d'hote  and 
consists  of  bread.  A  tin-cup  of  coffee  takes 
the  taste  of  the  bread  out  of  your  mouth, 
and  then  if  you  have  some  Limburger  cheese 
in  your  pocket  you  can  with  that  remove  the 
taste  of  the  coffee. 

Dinner  is  served  at  12  o'clock,  and  con 
sists  of  more  bread  with  soup.  This  soup 
has  everything  in  it  except  nourishment. 
The  bead  on  this  soup  is  noticeable  for  quite 
a  distance.  It  is  disagreeable.  Several  days 
ago  I  heard  that  the  Mayor  was  in  the  soup, 
9 


;A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

but  I  didn't  realize  it  before.  I  thought  it 
was  a  newspaper  yarn.  There  is  everything 
in  this  soup,  from  shop-worn  rice  up  to  neat's- 
foot  oil.  Once  I  thought  I  detected  cuisine 
in  it. 

The  dinner  menu  is  changed  on  Fridays, 
Sundays  and  Thursdays,  on  which  days  you 
get  the  soup  first  and  the  bread  afterwards. 
In  this  way  the  bread  is  saved. 

Three  days  in  a  week  each  man  gets  at 
dinner  a  potato  containing  a  thousand-legged 
worm.  At  6  o'clock  comes  supper  with  toast 
and  responses.  Bread  is  served  at  supper 
time,  together  with  a  cup  of  tea.  To  those 
who  dislike  bread  and  never  eat  soup,  or  do 
not  drink  tea  or  coffee,  life  at  Ludlow  Street 
Jail  is  indeed  irksome. 

I  asked  for  kumiss  and  a  pony  of  Benedic 
tine,  as  my  stone  boudoir  made  me  feel  rocky, 
but  it  has  not  yet  been  sent  up. 

Somehow,  while  here,  I  can  not  forget  poor 

old  man  Dorrit,  the  Master  of  the  Marshalsea, 

and  how  the  Debtors'  Prison  preyed  upon  his 

mind  till  he  didn't  enjoy  anything  except  to 

10 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

stand  off  and  admire  himself.  Ludlow  Street 
Jail  is  a  good  deal  like  it  in  many  ways,  and 
I  can  see  how  in  time  the  canker  of  unrest  and 
the  bitter  memories  of  those  who  did  us  wrong 
but  who  are  basking  in  the  bright  and  bracing 
air,  while  we,  to  meet  their  obligations,  sacri 
fice  our  money,  our  health  and  at  last  our 
minds,  would  kill  hope  and  ambition. 

In  a  few  weeks  I  believe  I  should  also  get 
a  preying  on  my  mind.  That  is  about  the 
last  thing  I  would  think  of  preying  on,  but  a 
man  must  eat  something. 

Before  closing  this  brief  and  incomplete  ac 
count  as  a  guest  at  Ludlow  Street  Jail  I  ought, 
injustice  to  my  family,  to  say,  perhaps,  that 
I  came  down  this  morning  to  see  a  friend  of 
mine  who  is  here  because  he  refuses  to  pay 
alimony  to  his  recreant  and  morbidly  sociable 
wife.  He  says  he  is  quite  content  to  stay  here, 
so  long  as  his  wife  is  on  the  outside.  He  is  writ 
ing  a  small  ready-reference  book  on  his  side 
of  the  great  problem,  "Is  Marriage  a  Fail 
ure?" 

With  this  I  shake  him  by  the  hand  and  in 
II 


A  GUEST  AT  THE  LUDLOW. 

a  moment  the  big  iron  storm-door  clangs  be 
hind  me,  the  big  lock  clicks  in  its  hoarse, 
black  throat  and  I  welcome  even  the  air  of 
Ludlow  street  so  long  as  the  blue  sky  is 
above  it. 


12 


OLD  POLKA  DOT'S  DAUGHTER 
II 

I    ONCE  decided  to  visit    an  acquaintance 
who  had  named  his  country  place  "The 
Elms."    I  went  partly  to  punish  him  because 
his  invitation   was   so    evidently  hollow  and 
insincere. 

He  had  "The  Elms' '  worked  on  his  clothes, 
and  embossed  on  his  stationery  and  blown  in 
his  glass,  and  it  pained  him  to  eat  his  food 
from  table  linen  that  didn't  have  "The  Elms" 
emblazoned  on  it.  He  told  me  to  come  and 
surprise  him  any  time,  and  shoot  in  his  pre 
serves,  and  stay  until  business  compelled  me 
to  return  to  town  again.  He  had  no  doubt 
heard  that  I  never  surprise  any  one,  and  never 
go  away  from  home  very  much,  and  so 
thought  it  would  be  safe.  Therefore  I  went. 
I  went  just  to  teach  him  a  valuable  lesson. 
When  I  go  to  visit  a  man  for  a  week,  he  is 
13 


OLD  POLKA  DOT'S    DAUGHTER. 

certainly  thenceforth  going  to  be  a  better  man, 
or  else  punishment  is  of  no  avail  and  the  chas 
tening  rod  entirely  useless  in  his  case. 

"The  Elms"  was  a  misnomer.  It  should 
have  been  called  ' '  The  Shagbark  "  or  ' '  The 
Doodle  Bug's  Lair. ' '  It  was  supposed  to  mean 
a  wide  sweep  of  meadow,  a  vine  covered  lodge, 
a  broad  velvet  lawn,  and  a  carriage  way, 
where  the  drowsy  locust,  in  the  sensuous 
shadow  of  magnanimous  elms,  gnawed  a  file 
at  intervals  through  the  day,  while  back  of 
all  this  the  mossy  and  gray-whiskered  front 
and  corrugated  brow  of  the  venerable  archi 
tectural  pile  stood  off  and  admired  itself  in 
the  deep  and  glassy  pool  at  its  base. 

In  the  first  place  none  of  the  yeomanry  for 
eight  miles  around  knew  that  he  called  his  old 
malarial  tank  "The  Elms,"  so  it  was  hard  to 
find.  But  when  I  described  the  looks  of  the 
lord  of  The  Elms  they  wank  at  each  other 
and  wag-ged  their  heads  and  said,  "Oh,  yes, 
we  know  him,"  also  interjecting  well  known 
one  syllable  words  that  are  not  euphonious 
enough  to  print. 

When  I  got  there  he  was  down  cellar  sprout- 
14 


.  .  .  .  '' His  old  look  of  apprehensive  cordiality  did 
not  leave  him  until  he  had  seen  me  climb  on  a  load  of  hay 
with  my  trunk  and  start  for  home  "  (Page  15) 


OLD  POLKA  DOT'S    DAUGHTER. 

ing  potatoes,  and  his  wife  was  hanging  out 
upon  the  clothes  line  a  pair  of  gathered  sum 
mer  trousers  that  evidently  were  made  for  a 
man  who  had  been  badly  mangled  in  a  saw 
mill. 

The  Elms  was  not  even  picturesque,  and 
the  preserves  were  out  of  order.  I  was  re 
ceived  with  the  same  cordiality  which  you  de 
tect  on  the  face  of  any  other  kind  of  detected 
liar.  He  wanted  to  be  regarded  as  a  remark 
able  host  and  landed  proprietor,  without  being 
really  hospitable.  I  remained  there  at  The 
Elms  a  few  days,  rubbing  rock  salt  and  Cay 
enne  paper  into  the  wounds  of  my  host,  and 
suggesting  different  names  for  his  home,  such 
as  ''The  Tom  Tit's  Eyrie,"  "The  Weeping 
Willow,"  "The  Crook  Neck  Squash"  and 
"TheMuskrat's  Retreat."  Then  I  came  away. 
His  old  look  of  apprehensive  cordiality  did  not 
leave  him  until  he  had  seen  me  climb  on  a 
load  of  hay  with  my  trunk  and  start  for  home. 

During  my  brief  sojourn  I  noticed  that  the 

surrounding  country  was  full  of  people,  and  I 

presume  there  was    a    larger    population    of 

"boarders,"  as  we  were    called    indiscrimi- 

15 


OLD  POLKA  DOT'S  DAUGHTER. 

nately,  than  ever  before.  The  number  of 
available  points  to  which  the  victims  of  hu 
midity  and  poor  plumbing  may  retreat  in 
summer  time  is  constantly  on  the  increase, 
while,  so  far  as  I  know,  all  the  private  and 
public  boarding  places  are  filled  to  their 
utmost  capacity.  Everywhere,  the  gaudy 
boarder  in  flannels  and  ecru  shoes  looms 
upon  the  green  lawn  or  the  brown  dirt  road, 
or  scales  the  mountain  one  day  and  stays  in 
bed  the  following  week,  rubbing  James  B. 
Pond's  Extract  on  his  swollen  joints. 

I  scaled  Mount  Utsa-yantha  in  company 
with  others.  We  picked  out  a  nice  hot  day, 
and,  selecting  the  most  erect  wall  of  the 
mountain,  facing  west,  we  scaled  it  in  such 
a  way  that  it  will  not  have  to  be  done  again 
till  new  scales  grow  on  it. 

Mount  Utsa-yantha  is  3,365  feet  above 
sea  level,  and  has  a  brow  which  reminds  me 
of  mine.  It  is  broad,  massive  and  bleak. 
The  foot  of  the  mountain  is  more  massive, 
however.  From  the  top  of  the  mountain  one 
gets,  with  a  good  glass,  a  view  of  six  or  seven 
states,  I  was  told.  Possibly  there  were  that 
16 


OLD   POLKA  DOT'S    DAUGHTER. 

many  in  sight,  though  at  that  season  of  the 
year  states  look  so  much  alike  that  it  takes 
an  expert  to  pick  them  out  readily.  When 
states  are  moulting,  it  is  all  I  can  do  to  tell 
Vermont  from  Massachusetts.  On  this  moun 
tain  one  gets  a  nice  view  and  highly  ex 
hilarating  birch  beer. 

Albany  can  be  distinctly  seen  with  a  glass 
— a  field  glass,  I  mean,  not  a  glass  of  birch 
beer.  Some  claim  that  the  nub  of  a  political 
boom  may  be  seen  protruding  from  the  Cap 
itol  with  the  nude  vision.  Others  say  they 
can  see  the  Green  mountains,  and  as  far  south 
as  the  eye  can  reach.  We  took  two  hours 
and  a  half  for  the  ascent  of  the  mountain,  and 
came  down  in  about  twenty  minutes.  We 
descended  ungracefully — the  way  the  Irish 
man  claimed  that  the  toad  walked,  viz. :  "git 
up  and  sit  down." 

Mount  Utsa-yantha — I  use  the  accepted 
orthography  as  found  in  the  Blackhawk  dic 
tionary — has  a  legend  also.  Many  centuries 
ago  this  beautiful  valley  was  infested  by  the 
red  brother  and  his  bronze  progeny.  Where 
now  the  red  and  blue  blazer  goes  shimmering 
2  17 


OLD  POLKA  DOT'S  DAUGHTER. 

through  the  swaying  maples,  and  the  girl  with 
her  other  dress  on  and  her  straw  colored  can 
vas  cinch  knocketh  the  croquet  ball  galley 
west,  once  there  dwelt  an  old  chief  whom  we 
will  call  Polka  Dot,  the  pride  of  his  people. 
He  looked  somewhat  like  William  Maxwell 
Evarts,  but  was  a  heavier  set  man.  Places 
where  old  Polka  Dot  sat  down  and  accumu 
lated  rest  for  himself  are  still  shown  to  city 
people  whose  faith  was  not  overworked  while 
young. 

Old  Polka  Dot  was  a  firm  man,  with 
double  teeth  all  around,  and  his  prowess  got 
into  the  personal  columns  of  the  papers  every 
little  while.  He  had  a  daughter  named  Utsa- 
yantha,  which  means  "a  messenger  sent  has 
tily  for  treasure,"  so  I  am  told,  or  possibly 
old  Polka  Dot  meant  to  imply  "one  sent  off 
for  cash." 

Anyhow  Utsa-yantha  grew  to  be  quite 
comely,  as  Indian  women  go.  I  never  yet 
saw  one  that  couldn't  stop  an  ordinary  planet 
by  looking  at  it  steadily  for  two  minutes. 
She  dressed  simply,  wearing  the  same  clothes 
while  tooling  cross-country  before  breakfast 
18 


OLD  POLKA  DOT'S  DAUGHTER. 

that  she  wore  at  the  scalp  dance  the  evening 
before.  In  summer  time  she  shellacked  her 
self  and  visited  the  poor.  Taking  a  little  box 
of  water  colors  in  a  shawl  strap,  so  that  she 
could  change  her  clothes  whenever  she  felt 
like  it,  she  would  go  away  and  be  gone  for  a 
fortnight  at  a  time,  visiting  the  ultra  fashion 
able  people  of  her  tribe. 

Finally  a  white  man  penetrated  this  region. 
He  did  it  by  asking  a  brakeman  on  the 
West  Shore  road  how  to  get  here  and  then 
doing  differently.  In  that  way  he  had  no 
trouble  at  all.  He  saw  Utsa-yantha  and 
loved  her  almost  instantly.  She  was  skin 
ning  a  muskrat  at  the  time,  and  he  could  not 
but  admire  her  deftness  and  skill.  From  that 
moment  he  was  not  able  to  drive  her  image 
from  his  heart.  He  sought  her  again  and 
again  to  tell  her  of  his  passion,  but  she  would 
jump  the  fence  and  flee  like  a  frightened  fawn 
with  a  split  stick  on  its  tail,  if  such  a  com 
parison  may  be  permitted.  At  last  he  won 
her,  and  married  her  quietly  in  his  working 
clothes.  The  nearest  justice  of  the  peace  was 
then  in  England,  and  so  rather  than  wait  he 
19 


OLD   POLKA  DOT'S    DAUGHTER. 

was  married  informally  to  Utsa-yantha,  and 
she  went  home  very  much  impressed  indeed. 
That  fall  a  little  russet  baby  came  to  bless 
their  union.  The  blessing  was  all  he  had 
with  him  when  he  arrived. 

Then  the  old  chief  Polka  Dot  arose  in  his 
wrath,  to  which  he  added  a  pair  of  moose 
hide  moccasins,  and  he  upbraided  his  daugh 
ter  for  her  conduct.  He  upbraided  her  with  a 
piazza  pole  from  his  wigwam.  He  was  very 
much  agitated.  So  was  the  pole. 

Then  he  cursed  her  for  being  the  mother  of 
a  /£  breed  child,  and  stalking  %  he  slew  the 
white  man  by  cutting  open  his  trunk  and  dis 
arranging  his  most  valuable  possessions.  He 
then  wiped  the  stab  knife  on  his  tossing 
mane,  and  grabbing  his  grandson  by  his 
swaddling  clothes  he  hurled  the  surprised  lit 
tle  stranger  into  Lake  Utsa-yantha.  By 
pouring  another  pailful  of  water  into  the  lake 
the  child  was  successfully  drowned. 

Then  the  widowed  and  childless  Utsa- 
yantha  came  forth  as  night  settled  down  upon 
the  beautiful  valley  and  the  day  died  peace 
fully  on  the  mountain  tops.  Her  eyes  were 
20 


OLD   POLKA  DOT'S    DAUGHTER. 

red  with  weeping  and  her  breath  was  punct 
uated  with  sobs.  Putting  on  a  pair  of  high 
rubber  boots  she  waded  out  into  the  middle 
of  the  lake,  where  there  is  quite  a  deep  place, 
and  drowned  herself. 

When  the  old  man  found  the  body  of  his 
daughter  he  was  considerably  mortified.  He 
took  her  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  and 
buried  her  there,  and  ever  afterward,  it  is 
said,  whenever  any  one  spoke  of  the  death  of 
his  daughter  and  her  family,  he  would  color 
up  and  change  the  subject. 

This  should  teach  us  never  to  kill  a  son-in- 
law  without  getting  his  wife's  consent. 


21 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR 
ill 

BEING  at  large  in  Virginia,  along  in  the 
latter  part  of  last  season,  I  visited  Mon- 
ticello,  the  former  home  of  Thomas  Jeffer 
son,  also  his  grave.  Monticello  is  about  an 
hour's  ride  from  Charlottesville,  by  diligence. 
One  rides  over  a  road  constructed  of  rip-raps 
and  broken  stone.  It  is  called  a  macadam 
ized  road,  and  twenty  miles  of  it  will  make 
the  pelvis  of  a  long-waisted  man  chafe  against 
his  ears.  I  have  decided  that  the  site  for 
my  grave  shall  be  at  the  end  of  a  trunk  line 
somewhere,  and  I  will  endow  a  droska  to 
carry  passengers  to  and  from  said  grave. 

Whatever  my  life  may  have  been,  and 
however  short  I  may  have  fallen  in  my  great 
struggle  for  a  generous  recognition  by  the 
American  people,  I  propose  to  place  my 
grave  within  reach  of  all. 

22 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR. 

Monticello  is  reached  by  a  circuitous  route 
to  the  top  of  a  beautiful  hill,  on  the  crest  of 
which  rests  the  brick  house  where  Mr.  Jeffer 
son  lived.  You  enter  a  lodge  gate  in  charge 
of  a  venerable  negro,  to  whom  you  pay  two 
bits  apiece  for  admission.  This  sum  goes  to 
wards  repairing  the  roads,  according  to  the 
ticket  which  you  get.  It  just  goes  toward  it, 
however ;  it  don't  quite  get  there,  I  judge,  for 
the  roads  are  still  appealing  for  aid.  Per 
haps  the  negro  can  tell  how  far  it  gets.  Up 
through  a  neglected  thicket  of  Virginia  shrubs 
and  ill-kempt  trees  you  drive  to  the  house.  It 
is  a  house  that  would  readily  command  $750, 
with  queer  porches  to  it,  and  large,  airy  win 
dows.  The  top  of  the  whole  hill  was  graded 
level,  or  terraced,  and  an  enormous  quantity 
of  work  must  have  been  required  to  do  it, 
but  Jefferson  did  not  care.  He  did  not  care 
for  fatigue.  With  two  hundred  slaves  of  his 
own,  and  a  dowry  of  three  hundred  more 
which  was  poured  into  his  coffers  by  his  mar 
riage,  Jeff  did  not  care  how  much  toil  it  took 
to  polish  off  the  top  of  a  bluff  or  how  much 
the  sweat  stood  out  on  the  brow  of  a  hill, 
23 


A  GREAT  CEBEBRATOR. 

Jefferson  wrote  the  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence.  He  sent  it  to  one  of  the  maga 
zines,  but  it  was  returned  as  not  available,  so 
he  used  it  in  Congress  and  afterward  got  it 
printed  in  the  Record. 

I  saw  the  chair  he  wrote  it  in.  It  is  a 
plain,  old-fashioned  wooden  chair,  with  a 
kind  of  bosom-board  on  the  right  arm,  upon 
which  Jefferson  used  to  rest  his  Declaration 
of  Independence  whenever  he  wanted  to  write 
it. 

There  is  also  an  old  gig  stored  in  the  house. 
In  this  gig  Jefferson  used  to  ride  from 
Monticello  to  Washington  in  a  day.  This  is 
untrue,  but  it  goes  with  the  place.  It  takes 
from  8 :  30  A.  M.  until  noon  to  ride  this  dis 
tance  on  a  fast  train,  and  in  a  much  more  direct 
line  than  the  old  wagon  road  ran. 

Mr.  Jefferson  was  the  father  of  the  Uni 
versity  of  Virginia,  one  of  the  most  historic 
piles  I  have  ever  clapped  eyes  on.  It  is  now 
under  the  management  of  a  classical  janitor, 
who  has  a  tinge  of  negro  blood  in  his  veins, 
mixed  with  the  rich  Castilian  blood  of  some 
body  else. 

24 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR. 

He  has  been  at  the  head  of  the  University 
of  Virginia  for  over  forty  years,  bringing  in 
the  coals  and  exercising  a  general  oversight 
over  the  curriculum  and  other  furniture.  He 
is  a  modest  man,  with  a  tendency  toward  the 
classical  in  his  researches.  He  took  us  up  on 
the  roof,  showed  us  the  outlying  country,  and 
jarred  our  ear-drums  with  the  big  bell.  Mr. 
Estes,  who  has  general  charge  of  Monticello 
• — called  Montechello — said  that  Mr.  Jefferson 
used  to  sit  on  his  front  porch  with  a  power 
ful  glass,  and  watch  the  progress  of  the  work 
on  the  University,  and  if  the  workmen  under 
took  to  smuggle  in  a  soft  brick,  Mr.  Jefferson, 
five  or  six  miles  away,  detected  it,  and  bound 
ing  lightly  into  his  saddle,  he  rode  down  there 
to  Charlottesville,  and  clubbed  the  bricklay 
ers  until  they  were  glad  to  pull  down  the  wall 
to  that  brick  and  take  it  out  again. 

This  story  is  what  made  me  speak  of  that 
section  a  few  minutes  ago  as  an  outlying 
country. 

The  other  day  Charles  L.  Seigel  told  us  the 
Confederate  version  of  an  attack  on  Fort 
Moultrie  during  the  early  days  of  the  war, 
25 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR. 

which  has  never  been  printed.  Mr.  Seigel 
was  a  German  Confederate,  and  early  in  the 
fight  was  quartered,  in  company  with  others, 
at  the  Moultrie  House,  a  seaside  hotel,  the 
guests  having  deserted  the  building. 

Although  large  soft  beds  with  curled  hair 
mattresses  were  in  each  room,  the  depart 
ment  issued  ticks  or  sacks  to  be  filled  with 
straw  for  the  use  of  the  soldiers,  so  that 
they  would  not  forget  that  war  was  a  serious 
matter.  Nobody  used  them,  but  they  were 
there  all  the  same. 

Attached  to  the  Moultrie  House,  and  wan 
dering  about  the  back-yard,  there  was  a 
small  orphan  jackass,  a  sorrowful  little  light 
blue  mammal,  with  a  tinge  of  bitter  melan 
choly  in  his  voice.  He  used  to  dwell  on  the 
past  a  good  deal,  and  at  night  he  would  re 
fer  to  it  in  tones  that  were  choked  with  emo 
tion. 

The  boys  caught  him  one  evening  as  the 
gloaming  began  to  arrange  itself,  and  threw 
him  down  on  the  green  grass.  They  next 
pulled  a  straw  bed  over  his  head,  and  in 
serted  him  in  it  completely,  cutting  holes  for 
26 


Then  they  tied  a  string  of  sleighbells  to  his  tail,  and  hit 
him  a  smart,  stinging  blow  with  a  black  snake    (Page  27) 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR. 

his  legs.  Then  they  tied  a  string  of  sleigh- 
bells  to  his  tail,  and  hit  him  a  smart,  stinging 
blow  with  a  black  snake. 

Probably  that  was  what  suggested  to  him 
the  idea  of  strolling  down  the  beach,  past 
the  sentry,  and  on  toward  the  fort.  The 
darkness  of  the  night,  the  rattle  of  hoofs,  the 
clash  of  the  bells,  the  quick. challenge  of  the 
guard,  the  failure  to  give  the  countersign,  the 
sharp  volley  of  the  sentinels,  and  the  wild 
cry,  "to  arms,"  followed  in  rapid  succes 
sion.  The  tocsin  sounded,  also  the  slogan. 
The  "culverin,  ukase,  and  door-tender  were 
all  fired.  Huge  beacons  of  fat  pine  were 
lighted  along  the  beach.  The  whole  slumber 
ing  host  sprang  to  arms,  and  the  crack  of  the 
musket  was  heard  through  the  intense  dark 
ness. 

In  the  morning  the  enemy  was  found  in 
trenched  in  a  mud-hole,  south  of  the  fort, 
with  his  clean  new  straw  tick  spattered  with 
clay,  and  a  wildly  disheveled  tail. 

On  board  the  Richmond  train  not  long  ago 
a  man  lost  his  hat  as  we  pulled  out  of  Peters 
burg,  and  it  fell  by  the  side  of  the  track.  The 
27 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR. 

train  was  just  moving  slowly  away  from  the  sta 
tion,  so  he  had  a  chance  to  jump  off  and  run 
back  after  it.  He  got  the  hat,  but  not  till 
we  had  placed  seven  or  eight  miles  between 
us  and  him.  We  could  not  help  feeling  sorry 
for  him,  because  very  likely  his  hat  had  an 
embroidered  hat  band  in  it,  presented  by  one 
dearer  to  him  than  life  itself,  and  so  we  worked 
up  quite  a  feeling  for  him,  though  of  course 
he  was  very  foolish  to  lose  his  train  just  for  a 
hat,  even  if  it  did  have  the  needle-work  of  his 
heart's  idol  in  it. 

Later  I  was  surprised  to  see  the  same 
man  in  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  and  he 
then  told  me  this  sad  story : 

' '  I  started  out  a  month  ago  to  take  a  little 
trip  of  a  few  weeks,  and  the  first  day  was 
very,  very  happily  spent  in  scrutinizing  nature 
and  scanning  the  faces  of  those  I  saw.  On 
the  second  day  out,  I  ran  across  a  young  man 
whom  I  had  known  slightly  before,  and  who 
is  engaged  in  the  business  of  being  a  com 
panionable  fellow  and  the  life  of  the  party. 
That  is  about  all  the  business  he  has.  He 
knows  a  great  many  people,  and  his  circle  of 
28 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR. 

acquaintances  is  getting  larger  all  the  time. 
He  is  proud  of  the  enormous  quantity  of 
friendship  he  has  acquired.  He  says  he  can't 
get  on  a  train  or  visit  any  town  in  the  Union 
that  he  doesn't  find  a  friend. 

''He  is  full  of  stones  and  witticisms,  and 
explains  the  plays  to  theater  parties.  He 
has  seen  a  great  deal  of  life  and  is  a  keen 
critic.  He  would  have  enjoyed  criticising 
the  Apostle  Paul  and  his  elocutionary  style  if 
he  had  been  one  of  the  Ephesians.  He 
would  have  criticised  Paul's  gestures,  and 
said,  'Paul,  I  like  your  Epistles  a  heap  better 
than  I  do  your  appearance  on  the  platform. 
You  express  yourself  well  enough  with  your 
pen,  but  when  you  spoke  for  the  Ephesian 
Y.  M.  C.  A.,  we  were  disappointed  in  you 
and  we  lost  money  on  you.' 

"Well,  he  joined  me,  and  finding  out 
where  I  was  going,  he  decided  to  go  also. 
He  went  along  to  explain  things  to  me,  and 
talk  to  me  when  I  wanted  to  sleep  or  read 
the  newspaper.  He  introduced  me  to  large 
numbers  of  people  whom  I  did  not  want  to 
meet,  took  me  to  see  things  I  didn't  want  to 
29 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR. 

see,  read  things  to  me  that  I  didn't  want  to 
hear,  and  introduced  to  me  people  who  didn't 
want  to  meet  me.  He  multiplied  misery  by 
throwing  uncongenial  people  together  and 
then  said:  'Wasn't  it  lucky  that  I  could  go 
along  with  you  and  make  it  pleasant  for 
you?' 

"Everywhere  he  met  more  new  people 
with  whom  he  had  an  acquaintance.  He 
shook  hands  with  them,  and  called  them  by 
their  first  names,  and  felt  in  their  pockets  for 
cigars.  He  was  just  bubbling  over  with  mirth, 
and  laughed  all  the  time,  being  so  offensively 
joyous,  in  fact,  that  when  he  went  into  a  car, 
he  attracted  general  attention,  which  suited 
him  first-rate.  He  regarded  himself  as  a  uni 
versal  favorite  and  all-round  sunbeam. 

"When  we  got  to  Washington,  he  took  me 
up  to  see  the  President.  He  knew  the  Presi 
dent  well — claimed  to  know  lots  of  things 
about  the  President  that  made  him  more  or 
less  feared  by  the  administration.  He  was 
acquainted  with  a  thousand  little  vices  of  all 
our  public  men,  which  virtually  placed  them 
in  his  power.  He  knew  how  the  President 
30 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR. 

conducted  himself  at  home,  and  was  'on  to 
everything'  in  public  life. 

"Well,  he  shook  hands  with  the  President, 
and  introduced  me.  I  could  see  that  the 
President  was  thinking  about  something  else, 
though,  and  so  I  came  away  without  really 
feeling  that  I  knew  him  very  well. 

"Then  we  visited  the  departments,  and  I 
can  see  now  that  I  hurt  myself  by  being 
towed  around  by  this  man.  He  was  so  free, 
and  so  joyous,  and  so  bubbling,  that  wher 
ever  we  went  I  could  hear  the  key  grate  in 
the  lock  after  we  passed  out  of  the  door. 

"He  started  south  with  me.  He  was  going 
to  show  me  all  the  battle-fields,  and  introduce 
me  into  society.  I  bought  some  strychnine 
in  Washington,  and  put  it  in  his  buckwheat 
cakes;  but  they  got  cold,  and  he  sent  them 
back.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  and  was 
almost  wild,  for  I  was  traveling  entirely  for 
pleasure,  and  not  especially  for  his  pleasure 
either. 

"At  Petersburg  I  was  told  that  the  train 
going  the  other  way  would  meet  us.  As  we 
started  out,  I  dropped  my  hat  from  the  win- 
31 


A  GREAT  CEREBRATOR. 

dow  while  looking  at  something.  It  was  a 
desperate  move,  but  I  did  it.  Then  I  jumped 
off  the  train,  and  went  back  after  it.  As 
soon  as  I  got  around  the  curve  I  ran  for 
Petersburg,  where  I  took  the  other  train.  I 
presume  you  all  felt  sorry  for  me,  but  if  you'd 
seen  me  fold  myself  in  a  long,  passionate  em 
brace  after  I  had  climbed  on  the  other  train, 
you  would  have  changed  your  minds." 
He  then  passed  gently  from  my  sight. 


HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD 

IV 

THERE  are  a  great  many  pleasures  to  which 
we  may  treat  ourselves  very  economic 
ally  if  we  go  at  it  right.  In  this  way  we  can, 
at  a  slight  expense,  have  those  comforts,  and 
even  luxuries,  for  which  we  should  otherwise 
pay  a  great  price. 

Costly  rugs  and  carpets,  though  beautiful 
and  rich  in  appearance,  involve  such  an  out 
lay  of  money  that  many  hesitate  about  buy 
ing  them ;  but  a  very  tasty  method  of  treat 
ing  floors  inexpensively  consists  in  staining 
the  edge  for  several  feet  in  width,  leaving  the 
center  of  the  room  to  be  covered  by  a  large 
rug.  Staining  for  the  floor  maybe  easily  made, 
by  boiling  maple  bark,  twenty  parts;  poke- 
berry  juice,  twenty-five  parts;  hazel  brush, 
thirty  parts,  and  sour  milk,  twenty-five  parts, 
until  it  becomes  about  the  consistency  of  the 
3  33 


HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

theory  of  infant  damnation.  Let  it  stand  a  few 
weeks,  until  the  rich  flavor  has  died  down,  so 
that  you  can  look  at  it  for  quite  a  while  with 
out  nausea ;  then  add  vinegar  and  copperas 
to  suit  the  taste,  and  apply  by  means  of  a 
whisk  broom.  When  dry,  help  yourself  to 
some  more  of  it.  This  gives  the  floor  a  rich 
pauper's  coffin  shade,  over  which  shellac  or 
cod  liver  oil  should  be  applied. 

Rugs  may  be  made  of  coffee  sacking  or 
Turkish  gunny-rest  sacks,  inlaid  with  rich  de 
signs  in  red  yarn,  and  a  handsome  fringe  can 
be  added  by  raveling  the  edges. 

A  beautiful  receptacle  for  soiled  collars  and 
cuffs  may  be  made  by  putting  a  cardboard 
bottom  in  a  discarded  and  shattered  coal 
scuttle,  gilding  the  whole  and  tying  a  pale 
blue  ribbon  on  the  bail. 

A  cheap  and  very  handsome  easy-chair 
can  be  constructed  by  sawing  into  a  flour  bar 
rel  and  removing  less  than  half  the  length  of 
staves  for  one-third  the  distance  around,  then 
fasten  inside  a  canvas  or  duck  seat,  below 
which  the  barrel  is  filled  with  bran. 

A  neat  little  mackerel  tub  makes  a  most 
34 


HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

appropriate  foot-stool  for  this  chair,  and  looks 
so  unconventional  and  rustic  that  it  wins  ev 
ery  one  at  once.  Such  a  chair  should  also 
have  a  limited  number  of  tidies  on  its  surface. 
Otherwise  it  might  give  too  much  satisfaction. 
A  good  style  of  inexpensive  tidy  is  made  by 
poking  holes  in  some  heavy,  strong  goods, 
and  then  darning  up  these  holes  with  some 
thing  else.  The  darned  tidy  holds  its  place 
better,  I  think,  and  is  more  frequently  worn 
away  on  the  back  of  the  last  guest  than  any 
other. 

This  list  might  be  prolonged  almost  indefi 
nitely,  and  I  should  be  glad  to  write  my  own 
experience  in  the  line  of  experiment,  if  it 
were  not  for  the  danger  of  appearing  egotist 
ical.  For  instance,  I  once  economized  in  the 
matter  of  paper-hanging,  deciding  that  I 
would  save  the  paper-hanger's  bill  and  put 
the  money  into  preferred  trotting  stock. 

So  I  read  a  recipe  in  a  household  hint, 
which  went  on  to  state  how  one  should  make 
and  apply  paste  to  wall  paper,  how  to  begin, 
how  to  apply  the  paper,  and  all  that.  The 
paste  was  made  by  uniting  flour,  water  and 
35 


HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

glue  in  such  a  way  as  to  secure  the  paper  to 
the  wall  and  yet  leave  it  smooth,  according 
to  the  recipe.  First  the  walls  had  to  be 
"sized,"  however. 

I  took  a  tape-measure  and  sized  the  walls. 

Next  I  began  to  prepare  the  paste  and 
cook  some  in  a  large  milk-pan.  It  looked 
very  repulsive  indeed,  but  it  looked  so  much 
better  than  it  smelled,  that  I  did  not  mind. 
Then  I  put  about  five  cents'  worth  of  it  on 
one  roll  of  paper,  and  got  up  on  a  chair  to 
begin.  My  idea  was  to  apply  it  to  the  wall 
mostly,  but  the  chair  tipped,  and  so  I  pa 
pered  the  piano  and  my  wife  on  the  way 
down.  My  wife  gasped  for  breath,  but  soon 
tore  a  hole  through  the  paper  so  she  could 
breathe,  and  then  she  laughed  at  me.  That 
is  the  reason  I  took  another  end  of  the  paper 
and  repapered  her  face.  I  can  not  bear  to 
have  any  one  laugh  at  me  when  I  am  myself 
unhappy. 

It  was  good  paste,  if  you  merely  desired  to 
disfigure  a  piano  or  a  wife,  but  otherwise  it 
would  not  stick  at  all.  I  did  not  like  it.  I 
was  mad  about  it.  But  my  wife  seemed  quite 

36 


My  idea  ivas  to  apply  it  to  the  ivall  mostly,  but  the  chair 
tipped,  and  so  I  papered  the  piano  and  my  ivife  on  the  way 
down  (Page  36) 


HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

stuck  on  it.  She  hasn't  got  it  all  out  of  her 
hair  yet. 

Then  a  man  dropped  in  to  see  me  about 
some  money  that  I  had  hoped  to  pay  him 
that  morning,  and  he  said  the  paste  needed 
more  glue  and  a  quart  of  molasses.  I  put  in 
some  more  glue  and  the  last  drop  of  molas 
ses  we  had  in  the  house.  It  made  a  mass 
which  looked  like  unbaked  ginger  snaps,  and 
smelled  as  I  imagine  the  deluge  did  at  low 
tide. 

I  next  proceeded  to  paper  the  room. 
Sometimes  the  paper  would  adhere,  and  then 
again  it  would  refrain  from  adhering.  When 
I  got  around  the  room  I  had  gained  ground 
so  fast  at  the  top  and  lost  so  much  time  at  the 
bottom  of  the  walls,  that  I  had  to  put  in  a  wedge 
of  paper  two  feet  wide  at  the  bottom,  and 
tapering  to  a  point  at  the  top,  in  order  to 
cover  the  space.  This  gave  the  room  the 
appearance  of  having  been  toyed  with  by  an 
impatient  cyclone,  or  an  air  of  inebriety  not 
in  keeping  with  my  poor  but  honest  charac 
ter. 

I  went  to  bed  very  weary,  and  abraded  in 
37 


HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

places.  I  had  paste  in  my  pockets,  and 
bronze  up  my  nose.  In  the  night  I  could 
hear  the  paper  crack.  Just  as  I  would  get 
almost  to  sleep,  it  would  pop.  That  was  be 
cause  the  paper  was  contracting  and  trying  to 
bring  the  dimensions  of  the  room  I  own  to 
fit  it. 

In  the  morning  the  room  had  shrunken  so 
that  the  carpet  did  not  fit,  and  the  paper 
hung  in  large  molasses-covered  welts  on  the 
walls.  It  looked  real  grotesque.  I  got  a 
paper-hanger  to  come  and  look  at  it.  He 
did  so. 

"And  what  would  you  advise  me  to  do 
with  it,  sir?"  I  asked,  with  a  degree  of  def 
erence  which  I  had  never  before  shown  to  a 
paper-hanger. 

"Well,  I  can  hardly  say  at  first.  It  is  a 
very  bad  case.  You  see,  the  glue  and  stuff 
have  made  the  paper  and  wrinkles  so  hard 
now,  that  it  would  cost  a  great  deal  to  blast 
it  off.  Do  you  own  the  house?" 

"Yes,  sir.  That  is,  I  have  paid  one-half 
the  purchase-price,  and  there  is  a  mortgage 
for  the  balance." 

38 


HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

"Oh.  Well,  then  you  are  all  right,"  said 
the  paper-hanger,  with  a  gleam  of  hope  in 
his  eye.  "Let  it  go  on  the  mortgage." 

Then  I  had  to  economize  again,  so  I  next 
resorted  to  the  home  method  of  administer 
ing  the  Turkish  bath.  You  can  get  a  Turk 
ish  bath  in  that  way  at  a  cost  of  four  and  one- 
half  to  five  cents,  which  is  fully  as  good  as 
one  that  will  cost  you  a  dollar  or  more  in 
some  places. 

I  read  the  directions  in  a  paper.  There  are 
two  methods  of  administering  the  low-price 
Turkish  bath  at  home.  One  consists  in 
placing  the  person  to  be  treated  in  a  cane- 
seat  chair,  and  then  putting*  a  pan  of  hot 
water  beneath  this  chair.  Ever  and  anon  a 
hot  stone  or  hot  flat-iron  is  dropped  into  the 
water  by  means  of  tongs,  and  thus  the  water 
is  kept  boiling,  the  steam  rising  in  thick 
masses  about  the  person  in  the  chair,  who  is 
carefully  concealed  in  a  large  blanket.  Every 
time  a  hot  flat-iron  or  stone  is  dropped  into 
the  pan  it  spatters  the  boiling  water  on  the 
bare  limbs  of  the  person  who  is  being  oper 
ated  upon,  and  if  you  are  living  in  the  same 
39 


HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

country  with  him,  you  will  hear  him  loudly 
wrecking  his  chances  beyond  the  grave  by 
stating  things  that  are  really  wrong. 

The  other  method,  and  the  one  I  adopted, 
is  better  than  this.  You  apply  the  heat  by 
means  of  a  spirit  lamp,  and  no  one,  to  look 
at  a  little  fifteen  cent  spirit  lamp,  would  be 
lieve  that  it  had  so  much  heat  in  it  till  he 
has  had  one  under  him  as  he  sits  in  a  wicker 
chair. 

A  wicker  chair  does  not  interfere  with  the 
lamp  at  all,  or  cut  off  the  heat,  and  one  is  so 
swathed  in  blankets  and  rubber  overcoats 
that  he  can't  help  himself. 

I  seated  myself  in  that  way,  and  then  the 
torch  was  applied.  Did  the  reader  ever  get 
out  of  a  bath  and  sit  down  on  a  wire  brush  in 
order  to  put  on  his  shoes,  and  feel  a  sort  of 
startled  thrill  pervade  his  whole  being  ? 
Well,  that  is  good  enough  as  far  as  it  goes, 
but  it  does  not  really  count  as  a  sensation, 
when  you  have  been  through  the  Home 
Treatment  Turkish  Bath. 

My   wife   was   in  another  room  reading  a 
new  book  in  which  she  was  greatly  interested. 
40 


HINTS  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

While  she  was  thus  storing  her  mind  with 
information,  she  thought  she  smelled  some 
thing  burning.  She  went  all  around  over  the 
house  trying  to  find  out  what  it  was.  Finally 
she  found  out. 

It  was  her  husband.  I  called  to  her,  of 
course,  but  she  wanted  me  to  wait  until  she 
had  discovered  what  was  on  fire.  I  tried  to 
tell  her  to  come  and  search  my  neighborhood, 
but  I  presume  I  did  not  make  myself  under 
stood,  because  I  was  excited,  and  my  personal 
epidermis  was  being  singed  off  in  a  way  that 
may  seem  funny  to  others,  but  was  not  so  to 
one  who  had  to  pass  through  it. 

It  bored  me  quite  a  deal.  Once  the  wicker 
seat  of  the  chair  caught  fire. 

"Oh,  heavens,"  I  cried,  with  a  sudden 
pang  of  horror,  "am  I  to  be  thus  devoured 
by  the  fire  fiend?  And  is  there  no  one  to 
help?  Help!  Help!  Help!" 

I  also  made  use  of  other  expressions  but 
they  did  not  add  to  the  sense  of  the  above. 

I  perspired  very  much,  indeed,  and  so  the 
bath  was,  in  a  measure,  a  success,  but  oh, 
what  doth  it  profit  a  man  to  gain  a  bath  if  he 
lose  his  own  soul? 

41 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD 
v 

I  ONCE  visited  my  old  haunts  in  Colorado 
and  Wyoming  after  about  seven  years  of 
absence.  I  also  went  to  Utah,  where  spring 
had  come  in  the  rich  valley  of  the  Jordan  and 
the  glossy  blackbird,  with  wing  of  flame, 
scooted  gaily  from  bough  to  bough,  deftly 
declaring  his  affections  right  and  left,  and  ac 
quiring  more  wives  than  he  could  support, 
then  clearing  his  record  by  claiming  to  have 
had  a  revelation  which  made  it  all  right. 

One  could  not  shut  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that 
there  was  great  real  estate  activity  in  the  West 
that  spring.  It  took  the  place  of  mining  and 
stock,  I  judge,  and  everywhere  you  heard  and 
saw  men  with  their  heads  together  plotting 
against  the  poor  rich  man.  In  Salt  Lake  I 
saw  the  sign,  "Drugs  and  Real  Estate." 

I  presume  it  meant  medicine  and  a  small 
residence  lot  in  the  cemetery. 
42 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

In  early  days  in  Denver,  Henry  C.  Brown, 
then  in  the  full  flush  and  vigor  of  manhood, 
opened  negotiations  with  the  agent  of  the 
Atchison  stage  line  for  a  ticket  back  to  Atchi- 
son,  as  he  was  heart-broken  and  homesick. 
He  owned  a  quarter-section  of  land,  with  a 
heavy  growth  of  prairie  dogs  on  it,  and  he 
had  almost  persuaded  the  agent  to  swap  him 
a  ticket  for  this  sage  brush  conservatory, 
when  the  ticket  seller  backed  gently  out  of 
the  trade.  Mr.  Brown  then  sat  him  down  on 
the  sidewalk  and  cried  bitterly. 

I  just  tell  this  to  show  how  easily  some 
men  weep.  Atchison  is  at  present  so  dead 
that  a  good  cowboy,  with  an  able  mule,  could 
tie  his  rope  to  its  tail,  and,  putting  his  spurs 
to  the  mule,  jerk  loose  the  entire  pelt  at  any 
time,  while  Brown's  addition  to  Denver  is 
worth  anywhere  from  one  and  a  half  to  two 
millions  of  dollars.  When  Mr.  Brown  weeps 
now  it  is  because  his  food  is  too  rich  and 
gives  him  the  gout.  He  sold  prairie  dogs 
enough  to  fence  the  land  in  so  that  it  could 
not  blow  into  Cherry  Creek  vale,  and  then  he 
set  to  work  earnestly  to  wait  for  the  property 
43 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

to  advance.  Finding  that  he  could  not  sell 
the  property  at  any  price,  he,  with  great 
foresight,  concluded  to  retain  it.  Some  men, 
with  no  special  ability  in  other  directions, 
have  the  greatest  genius  for  doing  such  things, 
while  others,  with  superior  talent  in  other 
ways,  do  not  make  money  in  this  way. 

A  report  once  got  around  that  I  had  made 
a  misguess  on  some  property.  This  is  partly 
true,  only  it  was  my  wife  who  speculated. 
She  had  never  speculated  much  before,  though 
she  had  tried  other  open  air  amusements. 
So  she  swapped  a  cottage  and  lots  in  Hud 
son,  Wisconsin,  for  city  lots  in  Minneapolis, 
employing  a  man  named  Flinton  Pansley 
to  work  up  the  trade,  look  into  the  title, 
and  do  the  square  thing  for  her.  He  was 
a  real  good  man,  with  heavenly  aspirations 
and  a  true  sorrow  in  his  heart  for  the  prev 
alence  of  sin.  Still  this  sorrow  did  not 
break  in  on  his  business.  Well,  the  business 
was  done  by  correspondence  and  Mr.  Pans- 
ley  only  charged  a  reasonable  amount,  she 
giving  him  her  new  carriage  to  remunerate 
him  for  his  brain  fag.  What  the  other  man 
44 


Frogs  build  their  nests  there  in  the  spring  and  rear  their 
young,  but  people  never  go  there    (Page  45) 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

paid  him  for  disposing  of  the  lots  I  do  not 
know.  I  was  away  at  the  time,  and  having 
no  insect  powder  with  which  to  take  his  life 
I  regretfully  spared  him  to  his  Bible  class. 

I  did  send  a  man  over  the  lots,  however, 
when  I  returned.  They  were  not  really  in 
the  city  of  Minneapolis,  that  is,  they  were 
not  near  enough  to  worry  anybody  by  the 
tumult  of  the  town.  In  fact,  they  were  in 
another  county.  You  may  think  I  am  un 
truthful  about  this,  but  the  lots  are  there,  if 
you  have  any  curiosity  to  see  them.  They 
are  not  where  they  were  represented  to  be, 
however,  and  the  machine  'shops  and  gas 
works  and  court-house  are  quite  a  long  dis 
tance  away. 

You  could  cut  some  hay  on  these  lots,  but 
not  enough  to  pay  the  interest  on  the  mort 
gage.  Frogs  build  their  nests  there  in  the 
spring  and  rear  their  young,  but  people  never 
go  there.  Two  years  ago  Senator  Washburn 
killed  a  bear  on  one  of  these  lots,  but  that  is 
all  they  have  ever  produced,  except  a  slight 
coldness  on  our  part  toward  Mr.  Pansley. 
He  says  he  likes  the  carriage  real  well, 
45 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

and  anything  he  can  do  for  us  in  the  future 
in  dickering  for  city  property  will  be  done 
with  an  alacrity  that  would  almost  make  one's 
head  swim.  I  must  add  that  I  have  permis 
sion  to  use  this  information,  as  the  victim 
seems  to  think  there  is  something  kind  of 
amusing  about  it.  Some  people  think  a 
thing  funny  which  others  can  hardly  get  any 
amusement  out  of.  What  I  wonder  at  is 
that  Pansley  did  not  ask  for  the  team  when 
he  got  the  carriage. 

Possibly  he  did  not  like  the  team. 

I  just  learned  recently  that  he  and  the 
Benders  used  to  be  very  thick  in  an  early 
day,  but  after  awhile  the  Benders  said  they 
guessed  they  would  have  to  be  excused. 
Even  the  Benders  had  to  draw  the  line  some 
where. 

Later  I  bought  property  in  Salt  Lake.  Not 
a  heavy  venture,  you  understand.  Just  the 
box-office  receipts  for  one  evening.  I  saw  it 
stated  in  the  papers  at  $10,000.  Anyway, 
I  will  let  that  go.  That  is  near  enough. 
When  I  see  anything  in  the  papers  I  ask  no 
more  questions.  I  do  not  think  it  is  right. 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

Patti  and  I  have  both  made  it  a  rule  to  put 
in  at  least  one  evening  as  an  investment  where 
we  happen  to  be.  We  are  almost  sure  to  do 
well  out  of  it,  and  we  also  get  better  notices 
in  the  papers. 

Patti  is  not  looking  so  well  as  she  did  when 
my  father  took  me  to  see  her  in  the  prime 
of  her  life.  Though  getting  quite  plain,  it 
costs  as  much  to  see  her  as  ever  it  did.  Her 
voice  has  a  metallic,  or  rather  bi-metallic, 
ring  to  it  nowadays,  and  she  .misses  it  by  not 
working  in  more  topical  songs  and  bright 
Italian  gags. 

I  asked  her  about  an  old  singer  who  used 
to  be  with  her.  She  said:  "He  was  remova 
to  ze  ocean,  where  he  keepa  ze  lighthouse. 
He  learn  to  himself  how  to  manage  ze  light 
house  one  seasong;  then  he  try  by  himself 
to  star." 

Now,  if  she  would  do  some  of  those  things 
on  the  stage  it  would  pay  her  first  rate. 

When  I  was   in  Wyoming  on  that  trip  I 

met  many  old   friends,   all   of  whom   shook 

me  warmly  by  the  hand  as  soon  as  they  saw 

me.     I  visited  the  Capitol,  and  both  houses 

47 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

adjourned  for  an  hour  out  of  respect  to  my 
memory.  I  will  never  again  say  anything  mean 
of  a  member  of  the  legislature.  A  speech  of 
welcome  was  made  by  the  gentleman  from 
Crook  county,  Mr.  Kellogg,  the  Demosthe 
nes  of  the  coming  state.  He  made  state 
ments  about  me  that  day  which  in  the  paper 
read  almost  as  good  and  truthful  as  an  epi 
taph. 

Going  over  the  hill,  at  Crow  Creek,  whose 
perfumed  waters  kiss  the  livery  stables  and 
abattoirs  at  Camp  Carlin,  three  slender  Sarah 
Bernhardt  coyotes  came  towards  the  train, 
looking  wistfully  at  me  as  if  to  say:  "Why, 
partner,  how  you  have  fleshed  up!"  An 
swering  them  from  the  platform  of  the  car,  I 
said:  "  Go  East,  young  men,  and  flesh  up 
with  the  country."  Honestly  and  seriously, 
I  do  think  that  if  the  coyote  would  change 
off  and  try  the  soft-shell  crab  diet  for  a  while, 
he  would  pick  right  up. 

When  I  got  to  Laramie  City  the  welcome 
was  so  warm  that  it  almost  wiped  out  the 
memory  of  my  shabby  reception  in  New 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

York  harbor  last  summer,  on  my  return  from 
Europe,  when  even  my  band  went  back  on 
me  and  got  drunk  at  Coney  Island  on  the 
very  money  I  had  given  them  to  use  in  wel 
coming  me  home  again. 

Winter  had  been  a  little  severe  along  the 
cattle  ranges,  and  deceased  cattle  might  be 
seen  extending  their  swollen  carcasses  into 
the  bright,  crisp  air  as  the  train  whirled  one 
along  at  the  rate  of  seven  to  eight  miles  per 
hour.  The  skinning  of  a  frozen  steer  is  a  di 
verting  and  unusual  proceeding.  Col.  Buf 
falo  Bill,  who  served  under  Washington  and 
killed  buffalo  and  baby  elephants  at  Valley 
Forge,  according  to  an  Italian  paper,  should 
put  this  feature  into  his  show.  Maybe  he 
will  when  he  reads  this.  The  cow  gentle 
man  first  selects  a  quick  yet  steady-going 
mule;  then  he  looks  for  a  dead  steer.  He 
does  not  have  to  look  very  far.  He  now 
fastens  one  end  of  the  deceased  to  some  per 
manent  object.  This  is  harder  to  find  than 
the  steer,  however.  He  then  attaches  his 
rope  to  the  hide  of  the  remains,  having  cut  it 
4  49 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

with  his  knife  first.  He  next  starts  the  mule 
off,  and  a  mile  or  so  away  he  discovers  that 
the  hide  is  entirely  free  from  the  cold  and 
pulseless  corps. 

Sometimes  a  cowboy  tries  to  skin  a  steer 
before  the  animal  is  entirely  dead,  and  when 
the  former  gets  back  to  the  place  from  which 
he  was  kicked,  he  finds  that  he  has  a  brand 
new  set  of  whiskers  with  which  to  surprise  his 
friends. 

The  Pacific  roads  have  greatly  improved  in 
recent  years,  and  though  they  do  not  dazzle 
one  with  their  speed,  they  are  much  more 
comfortable  to  pass  a  few  weeks  on  than  they 
were  when  the  eating-houses,  or  many  of 
them,  were  in  the  hands  of  people  who  could 
not  cook  very  well,  but  who  made  a  great 
deal  of  money.  Now  you  can  eat  in  a  good 
buffet-car,  or  a  first-class  dining-car,  at  your 
leisure,  or  you  can  stop  off  and  get  a  good 
meal,  or  you  can  carry  a  few  hens  and  eat 
hard-boiled  eggs  all  over  your  neighbors. 

I  do  not  think  people  on  the   cars   ought 
to  keep  hens.     It  disturbs  the  other  passen- 
50 


A  JOURNEY  WESTWARD. 

gers  and  is  anything  but  agreeable  to  the 
hens.  Close  confinement  is  never  good  for  a 
hen  that  is  advanced  in  years,  and  the  cigar 
smoke  from  the  rear  of  the  car  hurts  her 
voice,  I  think. 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE 

VI 

I  HAVE  bought  some  more  real  estate.  It 
occurred  in  Oakland,  California.  In  mak 
ing  the  purchase  I  had  the  assistance  of 
a  prophet,  and  I  hope  the  prophet  will  not 
be  overbalanced  by  the  loss.  It  came  about 
in  this  way :  A  prophet  on  a  bicycle  came 
to  Oakland  suddenly  very  hard  up  a  few 
weeks  ago,  and  began  to  ride  up  and  down 
on  his  two-wheeler,  warning  the  people  to  flee 
to  the  high  ground,  and  thus  escape  the  wrath 
to  come,  for,  he  said,  the  waters  of  the  great 
deep  would  arise  at  about  the  middle  of 
the  month  and  smite  the  people  of  Oakland 
and  slay  them,  and  float  the  pork  barrels  out 
of  their  cellars,  and  fill  their  cisterns  with 
people  who  had  sneered  at  his  prophecy. 

This  gentleman  was  an  industrious  prophet 
and  did  a  good  business  in  his  line.      He  at 
tracted  much  notice,  and  had  all  he  could  do 
52 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

at  his  trade  for  several  weeks.  Many  Oak 
land  people  were  frightened,  especially  as 
Wiggins,  the  great  intellectual  Sahara  of  the 
prophet  industry,  also  prophesied  a  high  wave 
which  would  rise  at  least  above  the  bills  at 
the  Palace  Hotel  in  San  Francisco.  With  the 
aid  of  these  two  gifted  middle-weight  proph 
ets,  I  was  enabled  to  secure  some  good  bar 
gains  in  corner  lots  and  improved  property  in 
Oakland  at  ten  per  cent,  of  the  estimated 
value.  In  other  words,  I  put  my  limited 
powers  as  a  prophet  against  those  of  Profes 
sor  Wiggins,  the  painstaking  and  conscien 
tious  seer  of  Canada,  and  the  bicycle  prophet 
of  the  Pacific  slope.  I  am  willing  to  stand  or 
fall  by  the  result. 

As  a  prophet  I  have  never  attracted  atten 
tion  in  this  country,  mostly  because  I  have 
been  too  busy  with  other  things.  Also  be 
cause  there  was  so  little  prophesying  to  be 
done  in  these  degenerate  days  that  I  did  not 
care  to  take  hold  of  the  industry ;  but  I  have 
ever  been  ready  to  purchase  at  a  great  dis 
count  the  desirable  residences  of  those  con 
templating  a  general  collapse  of  the  uni- 
53 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

verse,  or  a  tidal  wave  which  would  wipe  out 
the  general  government  and  cover  with  a 
placid  sea  the  mighty  republic  which  God  has 
heretofore,  for  some  reason,  smiled  upon. 
Moreover,  I  can  hardly  believe  that  the  Deity 
would  commission  a  man  to  go  out  over  Cal 
ifornia  on  a  bicycle  to  warn  people,  when  a 
few  red  messages  and  a  standing  notice  in  the 
newspapers  would  do  the  work  in  less  time. 
Reasoning  in  this  manner  with  a  sturdy  logic 
worthy  of  my  rich  and  unctious  past,  I  have 
secured  some  good  trades  in  down-town  prop 
erty,  and  shall  await  the  coming  devastation 
with  a  calm  and  entirely  unruffled  breast. 

California,  at  any  season  of  the  year,  is  a 
miracle  of  beauty,  as  almost  every  one  knows. 
Nature  heightens  the  effect  for  the  tenderfoot 
by  compelling  him  to  cross  the  Alpine  heights 
of  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains  and  freeze 
approximately  to  death  in  the  cold  heart  of  a 
snow  blockade.  Thus,  weather-beaten  and 
sore,  he  reaches  the  rolling  green  hills  and  is 
greeted  with  the  rich  odor  of  violets.  I  sub 
mitted  to  the  insults  of  a  tottering  monopoly  for 
a  week,  in  the  heart  of  the  winter,  and,  tired 
54 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

and  sick  at  soul,  with  chilblains  on  my  feet  and 
liniment  on  my  other  lineaments,  I  burst  forth 
one  bright  morning  into  the  realm  of  eternal 
summer.  The  birds  sang  in  my  frozen  bosom. 
I  shed  the  gunnysack  wraps  from  my  tender 
feet  even  as  a  butterfly  or  a  tramp  bursts  his 
hull  in  the  spring  time,  and  I  laughed  two  or 
three  coarse,  outdoor  laughs,  which  shook  the 
balmy  branches  of  the  tall  pomegranate  trees 
and  twittered  in  the  dense  foliage  of  the  mag 
nolia. 

The  railroad  was  very  kind  to  me  at  first. 
That  was  when  I  was  buying  my  ticket.  Later 
on  it  became  more  harsh  and  even  reproached 
me  at  times.  Conductors  woke  me  up  two  or 
three  times  in  the  night  to  gaze  fondly  on  my 
ticket  and  look  as  if  they  were  sorry  they  ever 
parted  with  it.  On  the  Central  Pacific  pas 
sengers  are  not  permitted  to  give  their  tickets 
to  the  porter  on  retiring.  You  must  wake  up 
and  converse  with  the  conductor  at  all  hours 
of  the  night,  and  hold  a  lantern  for  him  while 
he  slowly  spells  out  the  hard  words  on  your 
ticket.  I  did  not  like  this,  and  several  times 
I  murmured  in  a  querulous  tone  to  the  con- 
55 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

ductor.  But  he  did  not  mind  it.  He  went 
on  doing  the  behests  of  his  employer,  and  in 
that  way  endearing  himself  to  the  great  ad 
versary  of  souls. 

I  said  to  an  official  of  the  road :  "Do  you 
not  think  this  is  the  worst  managed  road  in 
the  United  States  —  always  excepting  the 
Western  North  Carolina  Railroad,  which  is 
an  incorporated  insult  to  humanity?" 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "that  depends,  of 
course,  on  the  standpoint  from  which  you 
view  it.  If  we  were  trying  to  divert  travel  to 
the  Southern  Pacific,  also  the  rolling  stock, 
the  good-will,  the  culverts,  the  dividends,  the 
frogs,  the  snowsheds,  the  right  of  way  and  the 
new-laid  train  figs,  everything  except  the  first, 
second  and  third  mortgages,  which  would  nat 
urally  revert  to  the  government,  would  you 
not  think  we  were  managing  the  business  with 
a  steady  hand  and  a  watchful  eye?" 

I  said  I  certainly  should.  I  then  wrung 
his  hand  softly  and  stole  away,  as  he  also  be 
gan  to  do  the  same  thing. 

At  Reno  we  had  a  day  or  two  in  which  to 
observe  the  city  from  the  car  platform,  while 
56 


I  improved  the  time  by  cultivating  the  acquaintance  of  the 
beautiful  and  picturesque  outcasts  known  as  the  Piute  Indi 
ans  (Page  57) 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

waiting  for  the  blockade  to  be  raised.  We 
could  not  go  away  from  the  train  further  than 
five  hundred  feet,  for  it  might  start  at  any 
moment.  That  is  one  beauty  about  a  snow 
blockade.  It  entitles  you  to  a  stop-over, 
but  you  must  be  ready  to  hop  on  when  the 
train  starts.  I  improved  the  time  by  culti 
vating  the  acquaintance  of  the  beautiful  and 
picturesque  outcasts  known  as  the  Piute  In 
dians.  They  are  a  quiet,  reserved  set  of 
people,  who,  by  saying  nothing,  sometimes 
obtain  a  reputation  for  deep  thought.  I  al 
ways  envy  anybody  who  can  do  that.  Such 
men  make  good  presidential  candidates. 
Candidates,  I  say,  mind  you.  The  time  has 
come  in  this  country  when  it  is  hard  to 
unite  good  qualifications  as  a  candidate  with 
the  necessary  qualities  for  a  successful  of 
ficial. 

The  Piute,  in  March  or  April,  does  not  go 
down  cellar  and  bring  up  his  gladiolus,  or  re 
move  the  banking  from  the  side  of  his  villa. 
He  does  not  mulch  the  asparagus  bed,  or 
prune  the  pie-plant,  or  rake  the  front  yard, 
or  salt  the  hens.  He  does  not  even  wipe  his 
57 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

heartbroken  and  neglected  nose.  He  makes 
no  especial  change  in  his  great  life-work  be 
cause  spring  has  come.  He  still  looks  seri 
ous,  and  like  a  man  who  is  laboring  under 
the  impression  that  he  is  about  to  become 
the  parent  of  a  thought.  These  children  of 
the  Piute  brave  never  mature.  They  do 
not  take  their  places  in  the  histories  or  the 
school  readers  of  our  common  country. 
The  Piute  wears  a  bright  red  lap-robe  over 
his  person,  and  generally  a  stiff  Quaker 
hat,  with  a  leather  band.  His  hair  is  very 
thick,  black  and  coarse,  and  is  mostly  cut 
off  square  in  the  neck,  by  means  of  an 
adz,  I  judge,  or  possibly  it  is  eaten  off  by 
moths.  The  Piute  is  never  bald  during 
life.  After  he  is  dead  he  becomes  bald  and 
beloved. 

Johnson  Sides  is  a  well-known  Piute  who 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  me  at  Reno.  He 
said  he  was  a  great  admirer  of  mine  and  had 
all  my  writings  in  a  scrap-book  at  home.  He 
also  said  that  he  wished  I  would  come  and 
lecture  for  his  tribe.  I  afterward  learned 
that  he  was  an  earnest  and  hopeful  liar  from 

58 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

Truckee.     He  had    no    scrap-book    at    all. 
Also  no  home. 

Mr.  Sides  at  one  time  became  quite  civil 
ized,  distinguishing  himself  from  his  tribe  by 
reading  the  Bible  and  imprisoning  the  lower 
drapery  of  his  linen,  garment  in  the  narrow 
confines  of  a  pair  of  cavalry  trousers,  instead 
of  giving  it  to  the  irresponsible  breeze,  as 
other  Piutes  did.  He  then  established  a  ho 
tel  up  the  valley  in  the  Sierras,  and  decided 
to  lead  a  life  of  industry.  He  built  a  hostelry 
called  the  Shack-de-Poker-Huntus,  and  ad 
vertised  in  the  Carson  Appeal,  a  paper  which 
even  the  editor,  Sam  Davis,  says  fills  him  with 
wonder  and  amazement  when  he  knows  that 
people  actually  subscribe  for  it.  Very  soon 
Piutes  began  to  go  to  the  shack  to  spend  the 
heated  term.  Every  Piute  who  took  the  Ap 
peal  saw  the  advertisement,  which  went  on  to 
state  that  hot  and  cold  water  could  be  got 
into  every  room  in  the  house,  and  that  elec 
tric  bells,  baths,  silver- voiced  chambermaids, 
over-charges,  and  everything  else  connected 
with  a  first-class  hotel,  could  be  found  at  that 
place.  So  the  Piute  people  locked  up  their 
59 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

own  homes,  and,  ejecting  the  cat,  they  spat 
on  the  fire,  and  moved  to  the  new  summer 
hotel.  They  took  their  friends  with  them. 
They  had  no  money,  but  they  knew  Johnson 
Sides,  and  they  visited  him  all  summer. 

In  the  fall  Mr.  Sides  .closed  the  house,  and 
resuming  his  blanket  he  went  back  to  live 
with  his  tribe.  When  the  butcher  wagon 
called  the  next  day  the  driver  found  a  notice 
of  sale,  and  in  the  language  of  Sol  Smith  Rus 
sell,  "Good  reasons  given  for  selling." 

Mr.  Sides  had  been  a  temperance  man 
now  for  a  year,  at  least  externally,  but  with 
the  humiliation  of  this  great  financial  wreck 
came  a  wild  desire  to  flee  to  the  maddening 
bowl,  having  been  monkeying  with  the  mad 
ding  crowd  all  summer.  So,  silently,  he  ob 
tained  a  bottle  of  Reno  embalming  fluid 
and  secreted  himself  behind  a  tree,  where 
he  was  asked  to  join  himself  in  a  social 
nip.  He  had  hardly  wiped  away  an  idle  tear 
with  the  corner  of  his  blanket  and  replaced 
the  stopper  in  his  tear  jug  when  the  local  rep 
resentative  of  the  U.  G.  J.  E.  T.  A.  of  Reno 
came  upon  him.  He  was  reported  to  the 
60 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

lodge,  and  his  character  bade  fair  to  be 
smirched  so  badly  that  nothing  but  saltpeter 
and  a  consistent  life  could  save  it.  At  this 
critical  stage  Mr.  Davis,  of  the  Appeal,  came 
to  his  aid,  and  not  only  gave  him  the  support 
and  encouragement  of  his  columns,  but  told 
Mr.  Sides  that  he  would  see  that  the  legisla 
ture  took  speedy  action  in  removing  his  alco 
holic  disabilities.  Through  the  untiring  ef 
forts  of  Mr.  Davis,  therefore,  a  bill  was  framed 
"whereby  the  drink  taken  by  Johnson  Sides, 
of  Nevada,  be  and  is  hereby  declared  null 
and  void." 

On  a  certain  day  Mr.  Davis  told  him  that 
the  bill  would  come  up  for  final  passage  and 
no  doubt  pass  without  opposition,  but  a  purse 
would  have  to  be  raised  to  defray  the  ex~ 
penses.  The  tribe  began  to  collect  what 
money  they  had  and  to  sell  their  grasshop 
pers  in  order  to  raise  more. 

Johnson  Sides  and  his  people  gathered  on 

the    day   named,    and  seated    themselves  in 

the   galleries.      Slim   old  warriors   with   firm 

faces  and  beetling  brows,  to  say  nothing  of 

61 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

having  their  hair  reached,  but  yet  with  no 
flies  on  them  to  speak  of,  sat  in  the  front 
seats.  Large,  corpulent  squaws,  wearing 
health  costumes,  secured  by  telegraph  wire, 
listened  to  the  proceedings,  knowing  no 
more  of  what  was  going  on  than  other  peo 
ple  do  who  go  to  watch  the  legislature.  Fi 
nally,  however,  Sam  Davis  came  and  told 
Mr.  Sides  that  he  was  now  pure  as  the  driven 
snow.  I  saw  him  last  week,  but  it  seemed 
to  me  it  was  about  time  to  get  some  more 
special  legislation  for  him. 

Once  Mr.  Davis  met  Mr.  Sides  on  the 
street  and  was  so  glad  to  see  him  that  he  said  : 
"Johnson,  I  like  you  first-rate,  and  should 
always  be  glad  to  see  you.  Whenever  you 
can,  let  me  know  where  you  are." 

The  next  week  Sam  got  quite  a  lot  of  tele 
grams  from  along  the  railroad — for  the  Indi 
ans  ride  free  on  account  of  their  sympathies 
with  the  road.  These  telegrams  were  dated 
at  different  stations.  They  were  hopeful  and 
even  cheery,  and  were  all  marked  "collect." 
They  read  about  as  follows : 
62 


A  PROPHET  AND  A  PIUTE. 

Sam  Davis,  Carson,  Nev.: 

WINNEMUCCA,  NEV.,  March  31. 
I  am  here. 

JOHNSON  SIDES. 

Every  little  while  for  quite  a  long  time  Mr. 
Davis  would  get  a  bright,  reassuring  tele 
gram,  sometimes  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
when  he  was  asleep,  informing  him  that 
Johnson  Sides  was  "there,"  and  he  then 
would  go  back  to  bed  cheered  and  soothed 
and  sustained. 


THE  SABBATH  OF  A  GREAT 
AUTHOR 

VII 

I  AWAKE  at  an  unearthly  hour  on  Sunday 
morning,  after  which  I  turn  over  and  go 
to  sleep  again.  This  second,  or  beauty 
sleep,  I  find  to  be  almost  invaluable.  I  do  it 
also  with  much  more  earnestness  and  expres 
sion  than  that  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  night. 
All  the  other  people  in  the  house  gradually 
wake  up  as  I  begin  to  get  in  my  more  fancy 
strokes. 

By  eight  o'clock  everybody  is  stirring,  and 
so  I  get  up  and  glide  about  in  my  pajamas, 
which  makes  me  look  almost  like  the  "Cle- 
menceau  Case"  in  search  of  an  engagement. 

Mr.  Rogers  is  going  to  have  me  sit  to  him 
in  my  pajamas  for  a  group  of  statuary.  He 
also  wishes  to  model  an  iron  hitching  post 
from  me. 


THE    SABBATH  OF  A  GREAT  AUTHOR. 

On  waking  I  at  once  take  to  me  tub  and 
give  myself  a  good  cold  bath. 

I  then  put  in  my  teeth. 

After  doing  some  little  studies  in  chiropody 
I  throw  a  silk-velvet  dressing  gown  over  my 
shoulders  and  look  at  my  bright  and  girlish 
beauty  in  a  full-length  mirror,  comparing  the 
dimpling  curves,  as  I  see  them  reflected,  with 
those  shown  in  the  morning  paper. 

After  reading  a  little  from  the  chess  col 
umn  of  some  good  author,  I  descend  to  the 
salon  and  greet  my  family  smilingly  in  order 
to  open  the  day  auspiciously.  We  all  then 
sing  around  the  parlor  organ  a  little  pean  en 
titled,  "It's  Funny  When  You  Feel  That 
Way." 

We  now  go  to  the  breakfast  room,  where 
the  children  are  taught  to  set  aside  the  dain 
tiest  bits  for  papa,  because  he  might  die  some 
time  and  then  it  would  be  a  life-long  regret 
to  those  who  are  spared  that  they  did  not 
give  him  the  tender  part  of  the  steer  or  the 
second  joint  of  the  hen. 

After  breakfast,  which  consists  of  chops, 
hashed  brown  potatoes,  muffins  and  coffee, 
5  65 


THE    SABBATH  OF  A  GREAT  AUTHOR. 

preceded  by  canteloupe  or  baked  beans,  we 
proceed  to  quarrel  over  who  shall  go  to  church 
and  who  shall  remain  at  home  to  keep  the 
cattle  out  of  the  corn. 

We  then  go  to  church,  those  who  can,  at 
least,  whilst  the  others  remain  and  read 
something  that  is  improving.  Sometimes  I 
shave  myself  on  Sunday  mornings.  Then  it 
takes  me  quite  a  while  to  get  back  into  a  relig 
ious  frame  of  mind.  I  do  not  manage  very 
well  in  shaving  myself,  and  people  who  go  by 
the  house  are  often  attracted  by  my  yells. 

I  go  to  church  quite  regularly  and  enjoy 
the  sermon  unless  it  is  too  firm  or  personal. 
If  it  goes  into  doctrine  too  much  I  am  apt  to 
be  quite  fatigued  at  its  end  on  account  of 
the  mental  reservations  I  have  made  along 
through  it. 

I  like  to  go  and  hear  about  God's  love,  but 
I  am  rarely  benefited  by  a  discourse  which 
enlarges  upon  his  jealousy.  When  I  am  told 
also  that  God  spares  no  pains  in  getting  even 
with  people,  I  not  only  do  not  enjoy  the  in 
formation,  but  I  would  sit  up  till  a  late  hour 
at  night  to  doubt  it. 

66 


He  sometimes  succeeds  in  getting  himself  disliked  by  some 
other  dog  and  then  I  can  observe  the  fight    (Page  67) 


.> . . "«« 

« •'*»  j      '•)"•>'"  .  •  -  • » > ""  v  * « ' 


THE   SABBATH  OF  A  GREAT  AUTHOR. 

I  shake  hands  with  the  pastor,  and  after 
suggesting  something  for  him  to  preach  about 
on  the  following  Sabbath,  I  go  home. 

In  the  afternoon  I  go  walking  if  no  one 
calls.  We  have  dinner  at  2  o'clock  on  Sun 
day,  consisting  of  jerked  beef  smothered  in 
milk  gravy.  This  is  the  remove.  For  side 
dishes  we  have  squash  or  meat  pie.  We 
sometimes  open  with  soup  and  then  have 
clean  plates  all  around,  with  fowl  and  greens, 
tapering  off  with  some  kind  of  rich  pie. 

After  dinner  I  sometimes  nap  a  little  and 
then  fool  with  the  colt.  This  is  done  quietly, 
however,  so  as  not  to  break  in  upon  the  de 
votional  spirit  of  the  day.  After  this  I  go  for 
a  walk  or  converse  intelligently  with  any  for 
eign  powers  who  may  be  visiting  our  shores. 

When  I  walk  I  am  generally  accompanied 
by  a  restless  Queen  Anne  dog,  which  pre 
cedes  me  about  a  mile.  He  sometimes  suc 
ceeds  in  getting  himself  disliked  by  some 
other  dog  and  then  I  can  observe  the  fight 
when  I  catch  up  with  him. 

As  the  twilight  gathers  all  seem  ready 
again  for  more  food  and  we  begin  to  clamor 


THE  SABBATH  OF  A  GREAT  AUTHOR. 

for  pabulum,  keeping  it  up  until  either  square 
or  round  crackers  and  smearcase  are  pro 
duced.  These  are  washed  down  with  foaming 
beakers  of  sarsaparilla. 

As  the  evening' lamp  is  now  lighted,  I  pro 
duce  some  good  book  or  pamphlet  like  "The 
Greatest  Thing  in  the  World,"  and  read  from 
it,  occasionally  cuffing  a  child  in  order  to 
keep  everything  calm  and  reposeful.  At  9 
o'clock  the  cat  is  expelled  and  the  eight-day 
clock  is  wound  up  for  the  week.  Gazing  up 
at  the  bright  cold  stars  after  kicking  forth  the 
cat,  I  realize  that  another  Sabbath  has  been 
filed  away  in  the  great  big  brawny  bosom 
of  the  past,  and  with  a  little  remorseful  sigh 
and  an  incipient  sob  when  I  think  that  I  am 
not  making  a  better  record,  I  drive  a  fence 
nail  in  over  the  door  latch  and  seek  my 
library  which,  on  being  properly  approached, 
opens  and  becomes  a  beautiful  couch. 


68 


A  FLYER   IN  DIRT 
VIII 

I  HAVE  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  my 
property  at  Minneapolis,  and  can  not 
refrain  from  referring  to  its  marvelous  growth. 
The  distance  between  it  and  the  business  cen 
ter  of  the  city  has  also  grown  a  good  deal 
since  I  last  saw  it.  This  is  the  property 
which  I  purchased  some  three  years  ago  of 
a  real  good  man.  His  name  is  Pansley — 
Flinton  Pansley.  He  has  done  business  in 
most  all  the  towns  of  the  Northwest.  Per 
haps  a  further  word  or  two  about  this  pious 
gentleman  will  not  be  amiss.  Entering  a 
place  quietly  and  even  meekly,  with  a  letter 
to  the  local  pastor,  he  would  begin  reaching 
out  his  little  social  tendrils  by  sighing  over 
the  lost  and  undone  condition  of  mankind. 
After  regretting  the  state  in  which  he  had 
found  God's  vineyard,  he  would  rent  a  store 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

and  sell  goods  at  a  sacrifice,  but  when  the 
sacrifice  was  being  offered  up,  a  close  ob 
server  would  discover  that  Mr.  Pansley  was 
not  in  it. 

In  this  way  he  would  build  up  quite  a 
trade,  only  sparing  a  little  time  each  day  in 
which  to  retire  to  his  closet  and  sob  over  the 
altogether  godless  condition  in  which  he  had 
found  man.  He  would  then  make  an  assign 
ment. 

Pardon  me  for  again  referring  to  the  mat 
ter,  but  I  do  so  ufterly  without  malice,  and 
in  connection  with  the  unparalleled  growth  of 
my  property  here.  So  if  the  gentle  and 
rather  attractive  reader  will  excuse  a  bad  pen, 
and  some  plain  stationery,  as  my  own  crested 
writing-paper  is  in  my  trunk,  which  is  now  in 
the  possession  of  a  well-known  hotel  man 
whose  name  is  suppressed  on  account  of  his 
family,  I  shall  refer  again  briefly  to  the  prop 
erty  and  the  circumstances  surrounding  its 
purchase.  I  had  intended  to  put  a  good 
fence  around  it  ere  this,  but  with  these  pecu 
liar  circumstances  surrounding  it,  I  feel  that 
it  is  safe  from  intrusion. 
70 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

The  property  was  sold  to  my  wife  by  Mr. 
Pansley  at  a  sacrifice,  but  when  the  burnt  of 
fering  had  ascended,  and  the  atmosphere  had 
cleared,  and  the  ashes  on  the  altar  had  been 
blown  aside,  the  suspender  buttons  of  Mr. 
Pansley  were  not  there.  He  had  taken  his 
bright  red  mark-down  figures,  and  a  letter  to 
his  future  pastor,  and  gone  to  another  town. 
He  is  now  selling  groceries.  From  town  lots 
to  groceries  is,  to  a  versatile  man,  a  very 
small  stride.  He  is  in  business  in  St.  Paul, 
and  that  has  given  Minneapolis  quite  a  little 
spurt  of  prosperity. 

We  exchanged  a  cottage  for  city  lots  un 
improved,  as  I  said  in  a  former  article,  and 
got  Mr.  Pansley  to  do  it  for  us.  My  wife 
gave  him  her  carriage  for  acting  in  that  ca 
pacity.  She  was  sorry  she  could  not  do 
more  for  him,  because  he  was  a  man  who  had 
found  his  fellow-men  in  such  an  undone  con 
dition  everywhere,  and  had  been  trying  ever 
since  to  do  them  up. 

The  property  lies  about  half-way  between 
the  West  Hotel  and  the  open  Polar  Sea,  and 
is  in  a  good  neighborhood,  looking  south;  at 
71 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

least  it  was  the  other  day  when  I  left  it.  It 
lies  all  over  the  northwest,  resembling  in  that 
respect  the  man  we  bought  it  of. 

Mr.  Pansley  took  the  carriage,  also  the 
wrench  with  which  I  was  wont  to  take  off  the 
nuts  thereof  when  I  greased  it  on  Sabbath 
mornings.  We  still  go  to  church,  but  we 
walk.  Occasionally  Mr.  Pansley  whirls  by 
us,  and  his  dust  and  debris  fall  upon  my 
freshly  ironed  and  neat  linen  coat  as  he  passes 
by  us  with  a  sigh. 

He  said  once  that  he  did  not  care  for 
money  if  he  only  could  let  in  the  glad  sun 
light  of  the  gospel  upon  the  heathen. 

"Why,"  I  exclaimed,  "why  do  you  wish 
to  let  in  the  glad  sunlight  of  the  gospel  upon 
the  heathen?" 

"Alas!"  he  said,  brushing  away  a  tear 
with  the  corner  of  a  gray  shawl  which  he 
wore,  and  wiping  his  bright,  piercing  nose  on 
the  top  rail  of  my  fence,  "so  that  they  would 
not  go  to  hell,  Mr.  Nye!" 

"And  do  you  think  that  the  heathen  who 
knows  nothing  of  God  will  go  to  hell,  or  has 
been  going  to  hell  for,  say,  ten  thousand  years, 

72 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

without  having  seen  a  daily  paper  or  a  Testa 
ment?" 

"I  do.  Millions  of  ignorant  people  in  yet 
undiscovered  lands  are  going  to  hell  daily 
without  the  knowledge  of  God."  With 
that  he  turned  away,  and  concealed  his  emo 
tion  in  his  shawl,  while  his  whole  frame 
shook. 

"But,  even  if  he  should  escape  by  reason 
of  his  ignorance,  we  can  not  escape  the  re 
sponsibility  of  shedding  the  light  of  the  gos 
pel  upon  his  opaque  soul,"  said  he. 

So  I  gave  him  $2  to  assist  the  poor  heathen 
to  a  place  where  he  may  share  the  welcome 
of  a  cordial  and  eternal  damnation  along  with 
the  more  educated  and  refined  classes. 
Whether  the  heathen  will  ever  appreciate  it 
or  not,  I  can  not  tell  at  this  moment.  Lately 
I  have  had  a  little  ray  of  fear  that  he  might 
not,  and  with  that  fear,  like  a  beam  of  sun 
shine,  comes  the  blessed  hope  that  possibly 
something  may  have  happened  to  the  $2,  and 
that  mayhap  it  did  not  get  there. 

I  went  up  to  see  the  property  with  which 
my  wife  had  been  endowed  by  the  generous 
73 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

foresight  of  Mr.  Pansley,  the  heathen's 
friend.  I  had  seen  the  place  before,  but  not 
in  the  autumn. 

Oh,  no,  I  had  not  saw  it  in  the  hectic  of 
the  dying  year !  I  had  not  saw  it  when  the 
squirrel,  the  comic  lecturer,  and  the  Italian 
go  forth  to  gather  their  winter  hoard  of 
chestnuts.  I  had  not  saw  it  as  the  god  of 
day  paints  the  royal  mantle  of  the  year's 
croaking  monarch  and  the  crow  sinks  softly 
onto  the  swelling  bosom  of  the  dead  horse.  I 
had  only  saw  it  in  the  wild,  wet  spring.  I 
had  only  saw  it  when  the  frost  and  the  bull 
frog  were  heaving  out  of  the  ground. 

I  strolled  out  there.  I  rode  on  the  railroad 
for  a  couple  of  hours  first,  I  think.  Then  I 
got  off  at  a  tank,  where  I  got  a  nice,  cool, 
refreshing  drink  of  as  good,  pure  water  as  I 
ever  flung  a  lip  over.  Then  rolling  my  trou 
sers  up  a  yard  or  two,  I  struck  off  into  the 
scrub  pine,  carrying  with  me  a  large  board 
on  which  I  had  painted  in  clear,  beautiful 
characters : 


74 


Then  rolling  my  trousers  up  a  yard  or  two,  I  struck  off 
into  the  scrub  pine,  carrying  ivith  me  a  large  board    (Page  74) 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

FOR  SALE. 

The  owner  finding  it  necessary  to  go  to 
Europe  for  eight  or  nine  years,  in  order  to 
brush  up  on  the  languages  of  the  conti 
nent  and  return  a  few  royal  visits  there, 
will  sell  all  this  suburban  property. 
Terms  reasonable.  No  restrictions  ex 
cept  that  street-cars  shall  not  run  past 
these  lots  at  a  higher  rate  of  speed  than 
sixty  miles  per  hour  without  permission 
of  the  owner. 

I  think  that  the  property  looks  better  in 
the  autumn  even  than  it  does  in  spring.  The 
autumn  leaves  are  falling.  Also  the  price  on 
this  piece  of  property.  It  would  be  a  good 
time  to  buy  it  now.  Also  a  good  time  to 
sell.  I  shall  add  nothing  because  it  has  been 
associated  with  me.  That  will  cut  no  figure, 
for  it  has  not  been  associated  with  me  so  very 
long,  or  so  very  intimately. 

The  place,  with  advertising  and  the  free 
use  of  capital,  could  be  made  a  beautiful  rural 
resort,  or  it  could  be  fenced  off  tastefully  into 
a  cheap  commodious  place  in  which  to  store 
bears  for  market. 

But  it  has  grown.  It  is  wider,  it  seems  to 
me,  and  there  is  less  to  obstruct  the  view. 
As  soon  as  commutation  or  dining  trains 
75 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

are  put  on  between  Minneapolis  and  Sitka,  a 
good  many  pupils  will  live  on  my  property 
and  go  to  school  at  Sitka. 

Trade  is  quiet  in  that  quarter  at  present, 
however,  and  traffic  is  practically  at  a  stand 
still.  A  good  many  people  have  written  to 
me  asking  about  my  subdivision  and  how  va 
rious  branches  of  industry  would  thrive  there. 
Having  in  an  unguarded  moment  used  the 
stamps,  I  hasten  to  say  that  they  would  be 
premature  in  going  there  now,  unless  in  pur 
suit  of  rabbits,  which  are  extremely  preva 
lent. 

Trade  is  very  dull,  and  a  first  or  even  a 
second  national  bank  in  my  subdivision  of  the 
United  States  would  find  itself  practically  out 
of  a  job.  A  good  newspaper,  if  properly 
conducted,  could  have  some  fun  and  get  a 
good  many  advertisements  by  swopping  kind 
words  at  regular  catalogue  prices  for  goods. 
But  a  theater  would  not  pay.  I  write  this  for 
the  use  of  a  man  who  has  just  written  to  know 
if  a  good  opera-house  with  folding  seats  would 
pay  a  fair  investment  on  capital.  No,  it 
would  not.  I  will  be  fair  and  honest.  Smart- 
76 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

ing  as  I  do  yet  under  the  cruel  injustice  done 
me  by  the  meek  and  gentle  groceryman, 
who,  while  he  wept  upon  my  corrugated  bo 
som  with  one  hand,  softly  removed  my  pelt 
with  the  other  and  sprinkled  Chili  sauce  all 
over  me,  I  will  not  betray  my  own  friends. 
Even  with  my  still  bleeding  carcass  quivering 
under  the  Halford  sauce  of  Mr.  Pansley,  the 
"skin"  and  hypocrite,  the  friend  of  the  far- 
distant  savage  and  the  foe  of  those  who  are 
his  unfortunate  neighbors,  I  will  not  betray 
even  a  stranger.  Though  I  have  used  his 
postage-stamp  I  shall  not  be  false  to  him. 
An  opera-house  this  fall  would  be  premature. 
Most  everybody's  dates  are  booked,  anyhow. 
We  could  not  get  Francis  Wilson  or  Nat  C. 
Goodwin  or  Lillian  Russell  or  Henry  Irving 
or  Mr.  Jefferson,  for  they  are  all  too  busy 
turning  people  away,  and  I  would  hate  to 
open  with  James  Owen  O'Connor  or  any 
other  mechanical  appliance. 

No.    Wait  another  year  at  least.     At  pres 
ent  an  opera-house  in  my  subdivision  of  the 
solar  system  would  be  as   useless  as  a  Dull 
Thud  in  the  state  of  New  York. 
77 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

One  drawback  to  the  immediate  prosperity 
of  the  place  is  that  commutation  rates  are  yet 
in  their  infancy.  Eighty-seven  and  one-half 
cents  per  ride  on  trains  which  run  only  on 
Tuesdays  and  Fridays  is  not  sufficient  com 
pensation  for  the  long  and  lonely  walk  and 
the  paucity  of  some  suitable  cottages  when 
one  gets  there. 

So  I  will  sell  the  dear  old  place,  with  all 
its  associations  and  the  good-will  of  a  thriv 
ing  young  frog  conservatory,  at  the  buyer's 
price.  As  I  say,  there  has  been  since  I  was 
last  there  a  steady  growth,  which  is  mostly 
noticeable  on  the  mortgage  that  I  secured 
along  with  the  property.  It  was  on  there 
when  I  bought  it,  and  as  it  could  not  be  re 
moved  without  injury  to  the  realty,  according 
to  an  old  and  established  law  of  Justinian  or 
Coke  or  Littleton,  Mr.  Pansley  ruled  that  it 
was  part  of  the  property  and  passed  with  its 
conveyance.  It  is  looking  well,  with  a  nice 
growth  of  interest  around  the  edges  and  its 
foreclosure  clause  fully  an  inch  and  a  half 
long. 

I  shall  be  willing,  in  case  I  do  not  find  a 
78 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

cash  buyer,  to  exchange  the  property  for  al 
most  anything  I  can  eat,  except  Paris  green. 
Nor  should  I  hesitate  to  swop  the  whole  thing, 
to  a  man  whom  I  felt  that  I  could  respect,  for 
a  good  bird  dog.  I  am  also  willing  to  trade 
the  lots  for  a  milk  route  or  a  cold  storage.  It 
would  be  a  good  site  for  some  gentleman 
in  New  York  to  build  a  country  cottage. 

I  should  also  swap  the  estate  to  a  man  who 
really  means  business  for  a  second-hand  cel 
lar.  Call  on  or  address  the  undersigned  early, 
and  please  do  not  push  or  rudely  jostle  those 
in  the  line  ahead  of  you. 

Cast-off  clothing,  express  prepaid,  and  free 
from  all  contagious  diseases,  accepted  at  its 
full  value.  Anything  left  by  mistake  in  the 
pockets  will  be  taken  good  care  of,  and,  pos 
sibly,  returned  in  the  spring. 

Gunnysack  Oleson,  who  lives  eight  miles 
north  of  the  county  line,  will  show  you  over 
the  grounds.  Please  do  not  hitch  horses  to 
the  trees.  I  will  not  be  responsible  for  horses 
injured  while  tied  to  my  trees. 

A  new  railroad  track  is  thinking  of  getting 
a  right  of  way  next  year,  which  may  be 

79 


A  FLYER  IN  DIRT. 

nearer  by  two  miles  than  the  one  that  I  have 
to  take,  provided  they  will  let  me  off  at  the 
right  place. 

I  promise  to  do  all  that  I  can  conscien 
tiously  for  the  road,  to  aid  any  one  who  may 
buy  the  property,  and  I  will  call  the  atten 
tion  of  all  railroads  to  the  advisability  of  a 
road  in  that  direction.  All  that  I  can  hon 
orably  do,  I  will  do.  My  honor  is  as  dear  to 
me  as  my  gas  bill  every  year  I  live. 

N.  B. — The  dead  horse  on  lot  9,  block  21, 
Nye's-  Addition  to  the  Solar  System,  is  not 
mine.  Mine  died  before  I  got  there. 


Fo 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET" 
IX 

THE  closing  debut  of  that  great  Shakes 
pearian  humorist  and  emotional  ass, 
Mr.  James  Owen  O'Connor,  at  the  Star  The 
ater,  will  never  be  forgotten.  During  his 
extraordinary  histrionic  career  he  gave  his 
individual  and  amazing  renditions  of  Hamlet, 
Phidias,  Shylock,  Othello,  and  Richelieu.  I 
think  I  liked  his  Hamlet  best,  and  yet  it  was 
a  pleasure  to  see  him  in  anything  wherein 
he  killed  himself. 

Encouraged  by  the  success  of  beautiful 
but  self-made  actresses,  and  hoping  to  win  a 
place  for  himself  and  his  portrait  in  the 
great  soap  and  cigarette  galaxy,  Mr.  O'Con 
nor  placed  himself  in  the  hands  of  some  mis 
guided  elocutionist,  and  then  sought  to  edu 
cate  the  people  of  New  York  and  elocute 
them  out  of  their  thralldom  up  into  the  glo- 
6  81 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

rious  light  of  the  O'Connor  school  of  act 
ing. 

The  first  week  he  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
critics,  and  they  spoke  quite  serenely  of  his 
methods.  Later,  it  was  deemed  best  to  place 
his  merits  in  the  hands  of  a  man  who  would 
be  on  an  equal  footing  with  him.  What 
O'Connor  wanted  was  one  of  his  peers,  who 
would  therefore  judge  him  fairly.  I  was  se 
lected  because  I  know  nothing  whatever  about 
acting  and  would  thus  be  on  an  equality  with 
Mr.  O'Connor. 

After  seeing  his  Hamlet  I  was  of  the  opin 
ion  that  he  did  wisely  in  choosing  New  York 
for  debutting  purposes,  for  had  he  chosen 
Denver,  Colorado,  at  the  end  of  the  third  act 
kind  hands  would  have  removed  him  from 
the  stage  by  means  of  benzine  and  a  rag. 

I  understand  that  Mr.  O'Connor  charged 
Messrs.  Henry  E.  Abbey  and  Henry  Irving 
with  using  their  influence  among  the  masses 
in  order  to  prejudice  said  masses  against  Mr. 
O'Connor,  thuf  making  it  unpleasant  for  him 
to  act,  and  inciting  in  the  audience  a  feeling 
of  gentle  but  evident  hostility,  which  Mr. 
82 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

O'Connor  deprecated  very  much  whenever  he 
could  get  a  chance  to  do  so.  I  looked  into 
this  matter  a  little  and  I  do  not  think  it  was 
true.  Until  almost  the  end  of  Mr.  O'Con 
nor's  career,  Messrs.  Abbey  and  Irving  were 
not  aware  of  his  great  metropolitan  success, 
and  it  is  generally  believed  among  the  friends 
of  the  two  former  gentlemen  that  they  did 
not  feel  it  so  keenly  as  Mr.  O'Connor  was  led 
to  suppose. 

But  James  Owen  O'Connor  did  one  thing 
which  I  take  the  liberty  of  publicly  alluding 
to.  He  took  that  saddest  and  most  melan 
choly  bit  of  bloody  history,  trimmed  with  as 
sassinations  down  the  back  and  looped  up 
with  remorse,  insanity,  duplicity  and  unre 
quited  love,  and  he  filled  it  with  silvery  laugh 
ter  and  cauliflower  and  mirth,  and  various 
other  groceries  which  the  audience  throw  in 
from  time  to  time,  thus  making  it  more  of  a 
spectacular  piece  than  under  the  conservative 
management  of  such  old-school  men  as  Booth, 
who  seem  to  think  that  Hamlet  should  be 
soaked  full  of  sadness. 

I  went  to  see  Hamlet,  thinking  that  I  would 

83 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

be  welcome,  for  my  sympathies  were  with 
James  when  I  heard  that  Mr.  Irving  was  pick 
ing  on  him  and  seeking  to  injure  him.  I  went 
to  the  box  office  and  explained  who  I  was, 
and  stated  that  I  had  been  detailed  to  come 
and  see  Mr.  O'Connor  act;  also  that  in  what 
I  might  say  afterwards  my  instructions  were 
to  give  it  to  Abbey  and  Irving  if  I  found  that 
they  had  tampered  with  the  audience  in  any 
way. 

The  man  in  the  box  office  did  not  recognize 
me,  but  said  that  Mr.  Fox  would  extend  to  me 
the  usual  courtesies.  I  asked  where  Mr.  Fox 
could  be  found,  and  he  said  inside.  I  then 
started  to  go  inside,  but  ran  against  a  total 
stranger,  who  was  "on  the  door,"  as  we  say. 
He  was  feeding  red  and  yellow  tickets  into  a 
large  tin  oven,  and  looking  far,  far  away.  I 
conversed  with  him  in  low,  passionate  tones, 
and  asked  him  where  Mr.  Fox  could  be  found. 
He  did  not  know,  but  thought  he  was  still  in 
Europe.  I  went  back  and  told  the  box  office 
that  Mr.  Fox  was  in  Europe.  He  said  No,  I 
would  find  him  inside.  "Well,  but  how  shall 
I  get  inside?"  I  asked  eagerly,  for  I  could  al- 
84 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

ready,  I  fancied,  hear  the  orchestra  beginning 
to  twang  its  lyre. 

"Walk  in,"  said  he,  taking  in  $2  and  giv 
ing  back  50  cents  in  change  to  a  man  with  a 
dead  cat  in  his  overcoat  pocket. 

I  went  back,  and  springing  lightly  over  the 
iron  railing  while  the  gatekeeper  was  thinking 
over  his  glorious  past,  I  went  all  around  over 
the  theater  looking  for  Mr.  Fox.  I  found 
him  haggling  over  the  price  of  some  vege 
tables  which  he  was  selling  at  the  stage  door 
and  which  had  been  contributed  by  admirers 
and  old  subscribers  to  Mr.  O'Connor  at  a 
previous  performance. 

When  Mr.  Fox  got  through  with  that  I 
presented  to  him  my  card,  which  is  as  good  a 
piece  of  job  work  in  colors  as  was  ever  done 
west  of  the  Missouri  river,  and  to  which  I 
frequently  point  with  pride. 

Mr.  Fox  said  he  was  sorry,  but  that  Mr. 
O'Connor  had  instructed  him  to  extend  no 
courtesies  whatever  to  the  press.  The  press, 
he  claimed,  had  said  something  derogatory 
to  Mr.  O'Connor  as  a  tragedian,  and  while 
he  personally  would  be  tickled  to  death  to 
85 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

give  me  two  divans  and  a  folding-bed  near 
the  large  fiddle,  he  must  do  as  Mr.  O'Con 
nor  had  bid — or  bade  him,  I  forget  which; 
and  so,  restraining  his  tears  with  great  diffi 
culty,  he  sent  me  back  to  the  entrance  and 
although  I  was  already  admitted  in  a  general 
way,  I  went  to  the  box  office  and  purchased  a 
seat.  I  believe  now  that  Mr.  Fox  thought 
he  had  virtually  excluded  me  from  the  house 
when  he  told  me  I  should  have  to  pay  in  or 
der  to  get  in. 

I  bought  a  seat  in  the  parquet  and  went  in. 
The  audience  was  not  large  and  there  were 
not  more  than  a  dozen  ladies  present. 

Pretty  soon  the  orchestra  began  to  ooze  in 
through  a  little  opening  under  the  stage. 
Then  the  overture  was  given.  It  was  called 
"Egmont."  The  curtain  now  arose  on  a 
scene  in  Denmark.  I  had  asked  an  usher  to 
take  a  note  to  Mr.  O'Connor  requesting  an 
audience,  but  the  boy  had  returned  with  the 
statement  that  Mr.  O'Connor  was  busy  re 
hearsing  his  soliloquy  and  removing  a  shirred 
egg  from  his  outer  clothing. 

He  also  said  he  could  not  promise  an  au- 
86 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

dience  to  any  one.  It  was  all  he  could  do  to 
get  one  for  himself. 

So  the  play  went  on.  Elsinore,  where  the 
first  act  takes  place,  is  in  front  of  a  large 
stone  water  tank,  where  two  gentlemen  armed 
with  long-handled  hay  knives  are  on  guard. 

All  at  once  a  ghost  who  walks  with  an 
overstrung  Chickering  action  and  stiff,  jerky, 
Waterbury  movement,  comes  in,  wearing  a 
dark  mosquito  net  over  his  head — so  that 
harsh  critics  can  not  truly  say  there  are  any 
flies  on  him,  I  presume.  When  the  ghost 
enters  most  every  one  enjoys  it.  Nobody 
seems  to  be  frightened  at  all.  I  knew  it  was 
not  a  ghost  as  quick  as  I  looked  at  it.  One 
man  in  the  gallery  hit  the  ghost  on  the  head 
with  a  soda  cracker,  which  made  him  jump 
and  feel  of  his  ear ;  so  I  knew  then  that  it 
was  only  a  man  made  up  to  look  like  a  pres 
ence. 

One  of  the  guards,  whose  name,  I  think, 
was  Smith,  had  a  droop  to  his  legs  and  an  in 
stability  about  the  knees  which  were  highly 
enjoyable.  He  walked  like  a  frozen-toed  hen, 
and  stood  first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the 
87 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

other,  with  almost  human  intelligence.  His 
support  was  about  as  poor  as  O'Connor's. 

After  awhile  the  ghost  vanished  with  what 
is  called  a  stately  tread,  but  I  would  regard 
it  more  as  a  territorial  tread.  Horatio  did 
quite  well,  and  the  audience  frequently  listen 
ed  to  him.  Still,  he  was  about  the  only  one 
who  did  not  receive  crackers  or  cheese  as  a 
slight  testimonial  of  regard  from  admirers  in 
the  audience. 

Finally,  Mr.  James  Owen  O'Connor  en 
tered.  It  was  fully  five  minutes  before  he 
could  be  heard,  and  even  then  he  could  not. 
His  mouth  moved  now  and  then,  and  a 
gesture  would  suddenly  burst  forth,  but  1 
did  not  hear  what  he  said.  At  least  I  could 
not  hear  distinctly  what  he  said.  After 
awhile,  as  people  got  tired  and  went  away,  I 
could  hear  better. 

Mr.  O'Connor  introduced  into  his  Hamlet 
a  set  of  gestures  evidently  intended  for  an 
other  play.  People  who  are  going  to  act  out 
on  the  stage  can  not  be  too  careful  in  getting 
a  good  assortment  of  gestures  that  will  fit  the 
play  itself.  James  had  provided  himself  with 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

a  set  of  gestures  which  might  do  for  Little 
Eva,  or  "Ten  Nights  in  a  Bar-room,"  but 
they  did  not  fit  Hamlet.  There  is  where  he 
makes  a  mistake.  Hamlet  is  a  man  whose 
victuals  don't  agree  with  him.  He  feels 
depressed  and  talks  about  sticking  a  bodkin 
into  himself,  but  Mr.  O'Connor  gives  him  a 
light,  elastic  step,  and  an  air  of  persiflage, 
bonhomie,  and  frisk,  which  do  not  match  the 
character. 

Mr.  O'Connor  sought  in  his  conception  and 
interpretation  of  Hamlet  to  give  it  a  free  and 
jaunty  Kokomo  flavor — a  nameless  twang  of 
tansy  and  dried  apples,  which  Shakespeare 
himself  failed  to  sock  into  his  great  drama. 

James  did  this,  and  more.  He  took  the 
wild-eyed  and  morbid  Blackwell's  Island 
Hamlet,  and  made  him  a  $2  parlor  humorist 
who  could  be  the  life  of  the  party,  or  give 
lessons  in  elocution,  and  take  applause  or 
crackers  and  cheese  in  return  for  the  same. 

There  is  really  a  good  lesson  to  be  learned 
from  the  pitiful  and  pathetic  tale  of  James 
Owen  O'Connor.  Injudicious  friends,  doubt 
less,  overestimated  his  value,  and  unduly 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

praised  his  Smart  Aleckutionary  powers .  Lov 
ing  himself  unwisely  but  too  extensively,  he 
was  led  away  into  the  great,  untried  purga 
tory  of  public  scrutiny,  and  the  general  in 
dictment  followed. 

The  truth  stands  out  brighter  and  stronger 
than  ever  that  there  is  no  cut  across  lots  to 
fame  or  success.  He  who  seeks  to  jump 
from  mediocrity  to  a  glittering  triumph  over 
the  heads  of  the  patient  student,  and  the 
earnest,  industrious  candidate  who  is  willing 
to  bide  his  time,  gets  what  James  Owen 
O'Connor  received — the  just  condemnation 
of  those  who  are  abundantly  able  to  judge. 

In  seeking  to  combine  the  melancholy 
beauty  of  Hamlet's  deep  and  earnest  pathos 
with  the  gentle  humor  of  "A  Hole  in  the 
Ground,"  Mr.  O'Connor  evidently  corked 
himself,  as  we  say  at  the  Browning  Club,  and 
it  was  but  justice  after  all.  Before  we  curse 
the  condemnation  of  the  people  and  the 
press,  let  us  carefully  and  prayerfully  look 
ourselves  over,  and  see  if  we  have  not  over 
estimated  ourselves. 

There  are  many  men  alive  to-day  who  do 
90 


A  SINGULAR  "HAMLET." 

not  dare  say  anything  without  first  thinking 
how  it  will  read  in  their  memoirs — men  whom 
we  can  not,  therefore,  thoroughly  enjoy  until 
they  are  dead,  and  yet  whose  graves  will  be 
kept  green  only  so  long  as  the  appropriation 
lasts. 


MY  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU 
x 

THE  following  matrimonial  inquiries  are 
now  in  my  hands  awaiting  replies,  and 
I  take  this  method  of  giving  them  more  air. 
A  few  months  ago  I  injudiciously  stated  that 
I  should  take  great  pleasure  in  booming,  or 
otherwise  whooping  up,  everything  in  the 
matrimonial  line,  if  those  who  needed  aid 
would  send  me  twenty-five  cents,  with  per 
sonal  description,  lock  of  hair,  and  general 
outline  of  the  style  of  husband  or  wife  they 
were  yearning  for.  As  a  result  of  thus  yield 
ing  to  a  blind  impulse  and  giving  it  cur 
rency  through  the  daily  press,  I  now  have 
a  huge  mass  of  more  or  less  soiled  post 
age  stamps  that  look  as  though  they  had 
made  a  bicycle  tour  around  the  world,  a 
haymow  full  of  letters  breathing  love  till  you 
can't  rest,  and  a  barrel  of  calico-colored  hair. 
It  is  a  rare  treat  to  look  at  this  assortment  of 

0,2 


MY  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU. 

hair  of  every  hue  and  degree  of  curl  and 
coarseness.  When  I  pour  it  out  on  the  floor 
it  looks  like  the  interior  of  a  western  barber 
shop  during  a  state  fair.  When  I  want  fun 
again  I  shall  not  undertake  to  obtain  it  by 
starting  a  matrimonial  agency. 

I  have  one  letter  from  a  man  of  twenty- 
seven  summers,  who  pants  to  bestow  himself 
on  some  one  at  as  early  a  date  as  possible. 
He  tells  me  on  a  separate  slip  of  paper, 
which  he  wishes  destroyed,  that  he  is  a  little 
given  to  "  bowling  up,"  a  term  with  which 
I  am  not  familiar,  but  he  goes  on  to  say  that 
a  good,  noble  woman,  with  love  in  her  heart 
and  an  earnest  desire  to  save  a  soul,  could 
rush  in  and  gather  him  in  in  good  shape.  He 
says  that  he  is  worthy,  and  that  if  he  could 
be  snatched  from  a  drunkard's  grave  in 
time  he  believes  he  would  become  eminent. 
He  says  that  several  people  have  already 
been  overheard  to  say:  "What  a  pity  he 
drinks."  From  this  he  is  led  to  believe  that 
a  good  wife,  with  some  means,  could  redeem 
him.  He  says  it  is  quite  a  common  thing 


93 


MY  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU. 

for  young  women  where  he  lives  to  marry 
young  men  for  the  purpose  of  saving  them. 

I  think  myself  that  some  young  girl  ought 
to  come  forward  and  snatch  this  brand  at  an 
early  date. 

The  great  trouble  with  men  who  form  the 
bowl  habit  is  that,  on  the  morrow,  after  they 
have  been  so  bowling,  they  awake  with  a 
distinct  and  well-defined  sensation  of  soreness 
and  swollenness  about  the  head,  accompanied 
by  a  strong  desire  to  hit  some  living  thing 
with  a  stove  leg.  The  married  man  can  al 
ways  turn  to  his  wife  in  such  an  emergency, 
smite  her  and  then  go  to  sleep  again,  but  to 
one  who  is  doomed  to  wander  alone  through 
life  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  suffer  on,  or 
go  out  and  strike  some  one  who  does  not  be 
long  to  his  family,  and  so  lay  himself  liable 
to  arrest. 

This  letter  is  accompanied  by  a  tin-type 
picture  of  a  young  man  who  shaves  in  such 
a  way  as  to  work  in  a  streak  of  whiskers 
by  which  he  fools  himself  into  the  notion 
that  he  has  a  long  and  luxuriant  mustache. 
He  looks  like  a  person  who,  under  the  in- 
94 


MY  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU. 

fluence  of  liquor,  would  weep  on  the  bosom 
of  a  total  stranger  and  then  knock  his  wife 
down  because  she  split  her  foot  open  instead 
of  splitting  the  kindling. 

He  is  not  a  bad-looking  man,  and  the 
freckles  on  his  hands  do  not  hurt  him  as  a 
husband.  Any  young  lady  who  would  like 
to  save  him  from  a  drunkard's  grave  can  ad 
dress  him  in  my  care,  inclosing  twenty-five 
cents,  a  small  sum  which  goes  toward  a  little 
memorial  fund  I  am  getting  up  for  myself. 
My  memory  has  always  been  very  poor,  and 
if  I  can  do  it  any  good  with  this  fund  I  shall 
do  so.  The  lock  of  hair  sent  with  this  letter 
may  be  seen  at  any  time  nailed  up  on  my 
woodshed  door.  It  is  a  dull  red  color,  and 
can  be  readily  cut  by  means  of  a  pair  of  tin 
man's  shears. 

The  two  following  letters,  taken  at  random 
from  my  files,  explain  themselves: 

"BURNT  PRAIRIE,  NEAR  THE  JUNCTION,^ 

"ON  THE  ROAD  TO  THE  COURT  HOUSE,   I 
"TENNESSEE,  January  2.      J 
"DEAR  SIR — I  am  in  search  of  a  wife  and 
95 


MY  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU. 

would  be  willing  to  settle  down  if  I  could  get 
a  good  wife.  I  was  but  twenty-six  years  of 
age  when  my  mother  died  and  I  miss  her 
sadly  for  she  was  oh  so  good  and  kind  to  me 
her  earing  son. 

"I  have  been  wanting  for  the  past  year  to 
settle  down,  but  I  have  not  saw  a  girl  that  I 
thought  would  make  me  a  good,  true  wife. 
I  know  I  have  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  world, 
and  am  inclined  to  be  cynical  for  I  see  how 
hollow  everything  is,  and  how  much  need 
there  is  for  a  great  reform.  Sometimes  I 
think  that  if  I  could  express  the  wild  thoughts 
that  surges  up  and  down  in  my  system,  I 
could  win  a  deathless  name.  When  I  get  two 
or  three  drinks  aboard  I  can  think  of  things 
faster  than  I  can  speak  them,  or  draw  them  off 
for  the  paper.  What  I  want  is  a  woman  that 
can  economize,  and  also  take  the  place  of  my 
lost  mother,  who  loved  me  and  put  a  better 
polish  on  my  boots  than  any  other  living  man. 

"I  know  I  am  gay  and  giddy  in  my  nature, 
but  if  I  could  meet  a  joyous  young  girl  just 
emerging  upon  life's  glad  morn,  and  she  had 
means,  I  would  be  willing  to  settle  down  and 


MY  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU. 

make  a  good,  quiet,  every-day  husband. 

"A.  J." 

"ASHMEAD,  LEDUC  CO.,  I.T.,  1 
"December  20.        J 

"DEAR  SIR — I  have  very  little  time  in 
which  to  pencil  off  a  few  lines  regarding  a 
wife.  I  am  a  man  of  business,  and  I  can't 
fool  around  much,  but  I  would  be  willing  to 
marry  the  right  kind  of  a  young  woman.  I 
am  just  bursting  forth  on  the  glorious  dawn 
of  my  sixty-third  year.  I  have  been  married 
before,  and  as  I  might  almost  say,  I  have 
been  in  that  line  man  and  boy  for  over  forty 
years.  My  pathway  has  been  literally  deco 
rated  with  wives  ever  since  I  was  twenty  years 
old. 

"I  ain't  had  any  luck  with  my  wives  here 
tofore,  for  they  have  died  off  like  sheep.  I've 
treated  all  of  them  as  well  as  I  knew  how, 
never  asking  of  them  to  do  any  more  than  I 
did,  and  giving  of  'em  just  the  same  kind  of 
vittles  that  I  had  myself,  but  they  are  all  gone 
now.  There  was  a  year  or  two  that  seemed 


97 


MY  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU. 

just  as  if  there  was  a  funeral  procession  string 
ing  out  of  my  front  gate  half  the  time. 

"What  I  want  is  a  young  woman  that  can 
darn  a  sock  without  working  two  or  three 
tumors  into  it,  cook  in  a  plain  economical 
way  without  pampering  the  appetites  of  hired 
help,  do  chores  around  the  barn  and  assist 
me  in  accumulating  property.  I.  D.  P." 

This  last  letter  contains  a  small  tress  of 
dark  hair  that  feels  like  a  bunch  of  barbed 
wire  when  drawn  through  the  fingers,  and 
has  a  tendency  to  "crock." 


THE  HATEFUL  HEN 

XI 

THE  following  inquiries  and  replies  have 
been  awaiting  publication  and  I  shall 
print  them  here  if  the  reader  has  no  objec 
tions.  I  do  not  care  to  keep  correspond 
ents  waiting  too  long  for  fear  they  will  get 
tired  and  fail  to  write  me  in  the  future  when 
they  want  to  know  anything.  Mr.  Earnest 
Pendergast  writes  from  Puyallup  as  follows : 

"Why  do  you  not  try  to  improve  your  ap 
pearance  more?  I  think  you  could  if  you 
would,  and  we  would  all  be  so  glad.  You 
either  have  a  very  malicious  artist,  or  else 
your  features  must  pain  you  a  good  deal  at 
times.  Why  don't  you  grow  a  mustache?" 

These  remarks,  of  course,   are  a  little  bit 

personal,  Earnest,    but   still   they  show  your 

goodness  of  heart.      I  fear  that  you  are  cursed 

with  the  fatal  gift  of  beauty  yourself  and  wish 

99 


THE  HATEFUL  HEN. 

to  have  others  go  with  you  on  the  downward 
way.  You  ask  why  I  do  not  grow  a  mus 
tache,  and  I  tell  you  frankly  that  it  is  for  the 
public  good  that  I  do  not.  I  used  to  wear 
a  long,  drooping  and  beautiful  mustache, 
which  was  well  received  in  society,  and,  un 
der  the  quiet  stars  and  opportune  circum 
stances,  gave  good  satisfaction;  but  at  last 
the  hour  came  when  I  felt  that  I  must  de 
cide  between  this  long,  silky  mustache  and 
soft-boiled  eggs,  of  which  I  am  passionately 
fond.  I  hope  that  you  understand  my  posi 
tion,  Earnest,  and  that  I  am  studying  the 
public  welfare  more  than  my  own  at  all  times. 

Sassafras  Oleson,  of  South  Deadman,  writes 
to  know  something  of  the  care  of  fowls  in  the 
spring  and  summer.  "Do  you  know,"  he 
asks,  "anything  of  the  best  methods  for  feed 
ing  young  orphan  chickens?  Is  there  any 
way  to  prevent  hens  from  stealing  their  nests 
and  sitting  on  inanimate  objects?  Tell  us  as 
tersely  as  possible  what  your  own  experience 
has  been  with  hens." 

To  speak  tersely  of  the  hen  and  her  mis 
sion  in  life  seems  to  me  almost  sacrilege.  It 
100 


THE  HATEKU& 

is  at  least  in  poor  taste **,.  Th^^hSs?  End'' her ' 
works  lie  near  to  every  true  heart.  She  does 
much  toward  making  us  better,  and  she 
doesn't  care  who  knows  it,  either.  Young 
chicks  who  have  lost  their  mothers  by  death, 
and  whose  fathers  are  of  a  shiftless  and  im 
provident  nature,  may  be  fed  on  kumiss,  two 
parts;  moxie,  eight  parts;  distilled  water, 
ten  parts.  Mix  and  administer  till  relief  is 
obtained.  Sometimes,  however,  a  guinea  hen 
will  provide  for  the  young  chicken,  and 
many  lives  have  been  saved  in  this  way. 
Whether  or  not  this  plan  will  influence  the 
voice  of  the  rising  hen  is  a  question  among 
henologists  of  the  country  which  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  answer. 

Hens  who  steal  their  nests  are  generally  of 
a  secretive  nature  and  are  more  or  less  social 
pariahs.  A  hen  who  will  do  this  should  be 
watched  at  all  times  and  won  back  by  kind 
words  from  the  step  she  is  about  to  take. 
Brute  force  will  accomplish  little.  Logic  also 
does  not  avail.  You  should  endeavor  to  in 
fluence  her  by  showing  her  that  it  is  honor 
able  at  all  times  to  lay  a  good  egg,  and  that 
101 


H^tEFUL  HEN. 


as-sooiv  as  sfce  JbjsgK^  fro  be  secretive  and  to 
seek  to  mislead  those  who  know  and  love  her, 
she  takes  a  course  which  can  not  end  with 
honor  to  herself  or  her  descendants. 

I  have  made  the  hen  a  study  for  many 
years,  and  love  to  watch  her  even  yet  as  she 
resumes  her  toils  on  a  falling  market  year 
after  year,  or  seeks  to  hatch  out  a  summer 
hotel  by  setting  on  a  door  knob.  She  inter 
ests  and  pleases  me.  Careful  study  of  the 
hen  convinces  me  that  her  low,  retreating 
forehead  is  a  true  index  to  her  limited  reason 
ing  faculties  and  lack  of  memory,  ideality, 
imagination,  calculation  and  spirituality. 
She  is  also  deficient  in  her  enjoyment  of 
humor. 

I  once  owned  a  large  white  draught  rooster, 
who  stood  about  seven  hands  high,  and  had 
feet  on  him  that  would  readily  break  down  a 
whole  corn-field  if  he  walked  through  it. 
Yet  he  lacked  the  courage  of  his  convictions, 
and  socially  was  not  a  success.  Leading  hens 
regarded  him  as  a  good-hearted  rooster,  and 
seemed  to  wonder  that  he  did  not  get  on  bet 
ter  in  a  social  way.  He  had  a  rich  baritone 
102 


THE  HATEFUL  HEN. 

voice,  and  was  a  good  provider,  digging  up 
large  areas  of  garden,  and  giving  the  hens 
what  was  left  after  he  got  through,  and  yet 
they  gave  their  smiles  to  far  more  dissolute 
though  perhaps  brighter  minds.  So  I  took 
him  away  awhile,  and  let  him  see  something 
of  the  world  by  allowing  him  to  visit  among 
the  neighbors,  and  go  into  society  a  little. 
Then  I  brought  him  home  again,  and  one 
night  colored  him  with  diamond  dyes  so  that 
he  was  a  beautiful  scarlet.  His  name  was 
Sumner. 

I  took  Sumner  the  following  morning  and 
turned  him  loose  among  his  old  neighbors. 
Surprise  was  written  on  every  face.  He  re 
alized  his  advantage,  and  the  first  thing  he 
did  was  to  greet  the  astonished  crowd  with  a 
gutteral  remark,  which  made  them  jump. 
He  then  stepped  over  to  a  hated  rival,  and  ate 
off  about  fifteen  cents'  worth  of  his  large,  red, 
pompadour  comb.  He  now  remarked  in  a 
courteous  way  to  a  small  Poland-China  hen, 
who  seemed  to  be  at  the  head  of  all  works  of 
social  improvement,  that  we  were  having 
rather  a  backward  spring.  Then  he  picked 
103 


THE  HATEFUL  HEN. 

out  the  eye  of  another  rival,  much  to  his  sur 
prise,  and  went  on  with  the  conversation.  By 
noon  the  bright  scarlet  rooster  owned  the 
town.  Those  who  had  picked  on  him  before 
had  now  gone  to  the  hospital,  and  practically 
the  social  world  was  his.  He  got  so  stuck 
up  that  he  crowed  whenever  the  conversation 
lagged,  and  was  too  proud  to  eat  a  worm 
that  was  not  right  off  the  ice.  I  never  saw 
prosperity  knock  the  sense  out  of  a  rooster 
so  soon.  He  lost  my  sympathy  at  once,  and 
I  resolved  to  let  him  carve  out  his  own  career 
as  best  he  might. 

Gradually  his  tail  feathers  grew  gray  and 
faded,  but  he  wore  his  head  high.  He  was 
arrogant  and  made  the  hens  go  worming  for 
his  breakfast  by  daylight.  Then  he  would 
get  mad  at  the  food  and  be  real  hateful  and 
step  on  the  little  chickens  with  his  great  big 
feet. 

But  as  his  new  feathers  began  to  come  in 
folks  got  on  to  him,  as  Matthew  Arnold  has 
it,  and  the  other  roosters  began  to  brighten  up 
and  also  blow  up  their  biceps  muscles. 

One  day  he  was  especially  mean  at  break- 
104 


He  looked  up  sadly  at  me  with  his  one  eye  as  who  should 
say,  "Have  you  got  any  more  of  that  there  red  paint  left  ?  " 
(Page  105) 


THE  HATEFUL  HEN. 

fast.  A  large  fat  worm,  brought  to  him  by 
the  flower  of  his  harem,  had  a  slight  gamey 
flavor,  he  seemed  to  think,  and  so  he  got 
mad  and  bit  several  chickens  with  his  great 
coarse  beak  and  stepped  on  some  more  and 
made  a  perfect  show  of  himself. 

At  this  moment  a  small  bantam  wearing 
one  eye  still  in  mourning  danced  up  and 
kicked  Sumner's  eye  out.  Then  another 
rival  knocked  the  stuffing  for  a  whole  sofa 
pillow  out  of  Sumner,  and  retired.  By  this 
time  the  surprised  and  gratified  hens  stepped 
back  and  gave  the  boys  a  chance.  The  ban 
tam  now  put  on  his  trim  little  telegraph  climb 
ers  and,  going  up  Mr.  Sumner's  powerful 
frame  at  about  four  jumps,  he  put  in  some 
repairs  on  the  giant's  features,  presented  his 
bill,  and  returned.  By  nine  o'clock  Sumner 
didn't  have  features  enough  left  for  a  Sunday 
paper.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  been  through 
the  elevated  station  at  City  Hall  and  Brook 
lyn  bridge.  He  looked  up  sadly  at  me  with 
his  one  eye  as  who  should  say,  "Have  you 
got  any  more  of  that  there  red  paint  left?" 
But  I  shook  my  head  at  him  and  he  went 
105 


THE  HATEFUL  HEN. 

away  into  a  little  patch  of  catnip  and  stayed 
there  four  days.  After  that  you  could  get 
that  rooster  to  do  anything  for  you — except 
lay.  He  was  gentle  to  a  fault.  He  would 
run  errands  for  those  hens  and  turn  an  ice 
cream  freezer  for  them  all  day  on  lawn  festi 
val  days  while  others  were  gay.  He  never 
murmured  nor  repined.  He  was  kind  to  the 
little  chickens  and  often  spoke  to  them  about 
the  general  advantages  of  humility. 

After  many  years  of  usefulness  Sumner  one 
day  thoughtlessly  ate  the  remains  of  a  salt 
mackerel,  and  pulling  the  drapery  of  his 
couch  about  him  he  lay  down  to  pleasant 
dreams,  and  life's  fitful  fever  was  over.  His 
remains  were  given  to  a  poor  family  in  whom 
I  take  a  great  interest,  frequently  giving  them 
many  things  for  which  I  have  no  especial  use. 

This  should  teach  us  that  some  people  can 
not  stand  prosperity,  but  need  a  little  sorrow, 
ever  and  anon,  to  teach  them  where  they  be 
long.  And,  oh!  how  the  great  world  smiles 
when  a  rooster,  who  has  owned  the  ranch  for 
a  year  or  so,  and  made  himself  odious,  gets 


1 06 


THE  HATEFUL  HEN. 

spread  out  over  the  United  States  by  a  smaller 
one  with  less  voice. 

The  study  of  the  fowl  is  filled  with  interest. 
Of  late  years  I  keep  fowls  instead  of  a  gar 
den.  Formerly  my  neighbors  kept  fowls  and  I 
kept  the  garden. 

It  is  better  as  it  is. 

Mertie  Kersykes,  Whatcom,  Washington, 
writes  as  follows:  "Dear  Mr.  Nye,  does 
pugilists  ever  reform?  They  are  so  much 
brought  into  Contax  with  course  natures  that 
I  do  not  see  how  they  can  ever,  ever  become 
good  lives  or  become  professors  of  religion. 
Do  you  know  if  such  is  the  case  to  the  best 
of  your  knowledge,  and  answeer  Soon  as  con 
venient,  and  so  no  more  at  Present." 


107 


AS  A  CANDIDATE 
XII 

THE  heat  and  venom  of  each  political  cam 
paign  bring  back  to  my  mind  with 
wonderful  clearness  the  bitter  and  acrimoni 
ous  war,  and  the  savage  factional  fight,  which 
characterized  my  own  legislative  candidacy 
in  what  was  called  the  Prairie  Dog  District 
of  Wyoming,  about  ten  years  ago.  This  dis 
trict  was  known  far  and  wide  as  the  battle 
ground  of  the  territory,  and  generally  when 
the  sun  went  down  on  the  eve  of  election  day 
the  ground  had  that  disheveled  and  torn-up 
appearance  peculiar  to  the  grave  of  Brigham 
Young  the  next  day  after  his  aggregated 
widow  has  held  her  regular  annual  sob  recital 
and  scalding-tear  festival. 

I  hesitated  about  accepting  the  nomination 
because  I  knew  that  Vituperation  would  get 
up  on  its  hind  feet  and  annoy  me   greatly, 
108 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

and  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  no  pains 
would  be  spared  on  the  part  of  the  man 
agement  of  the  opposition  to  make  my  exist 
ence  a  perfect  bore.  This  turned  out  to  be 
the  case,  and  although  I  was  nominated  in  a 
way  that  seemed  to  indicate  perfect  harmony, 
it  was  not  a  week  before  the  opposition  or 
gan,  to  which  I  had  frequently  loaned  print 
paper  when  it  could  not  get  its  own  C.  O.  D. 
paper  out  of  the  express  office,  said  as  fol 
lows  in  a  startled  and  double-leaded  tone  of 
voice : 

"HUMILIATING    DISCLOSURE. 

"The  candidate  for  assembly  in  this  dis 
trict,  whose  trans-Missouri  name  seems  to  be 
Nye,  turns  out  to  be  the  same  man  who  left 
Penobscot  county,  Maine,  in  the  dark  of  the 
moon  four  years  ago.  Mr.  Nye's  disappear 
ance  was  so  mysterious  that  prominent  Pe- 
nobscoters,  especially  the  sheriff,  offered  a 
large  reward  for  his  person.  It  was  after 
wards  learned  that  he  was  kidnaped  and 
taken  across  the  Canadian  line  by  a  high- 
109 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

spirited  and  high-stepping  horse  valued  at 
$1,300.  Mr.  Nye's  candidacy  for  the  high 
office  to  which  he  aspires  has  brought  him 
into  such  prominence  that  at  the  mass  meet 
ing  held  last  evening  in  Jimmy  Avery's  bar 
ber-shop,  he  was  recognized  at  once  by  a 
Maine  man  while  making  a  telling  speech  in 
favor  of  putting  in  a  stone  culvert  at  the  draw 
above  Mandel's  ranch.  The  man  from  Maine, 
who  is  visiting  our  thriving  little  town  with  a 
view  to  locating  here  and  establishing  an 
agency  for  his  world-renowned  rock-alum 
axe-helves,  says  that  Mr.  Nye,  in  the  hurry 
and  rush  incident  to  his  departure  for  Canada, 
overlooked  his  wife  and  seven  little  ones.  He 
also  says  that  the  candidate's  boasted  liberality 
here  is  different  from  the  kind  he  was  using 
while  in  Maine,  and  quotes  the  following  in 
cident:  Two  years  before  he  went  away 
from  Penobscot  county,  one  of  our  present 
candidate's  children  was  playing  on  the  rail 
road  track  of  the  Bangor  &  Moosehead  Lake 
Railroad,  when  suddenly  there  was  a  wild 
shriek  of  the  iron-horse,  a  timid,  scared  cry 
of  the  child,  and  the  rushing  train  was  upon 
no 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

it.  Spectators  turned  away  in  horror.  The 
air  was  heavy,  and  the  sun  seemed  to  stop 
its  shining.  Slowly  the  long  freight  train, 
loaded  with  its  rich  freight  of  huckleberries, 
came  to  a  halt.  A  glad  cry  went  up  from 
the  assembly  as  the  broad-shouldered  engi 
neer  came  out  of  the  tall  grass  with  the  crow 
ing  child  in  his  arms.  Then  cheer  on  cheer 
rent  the  air,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  Mr. 
Nye  appeared.  He  was  told  of  the  circum 
stance,  and,  as  he  wrung  the  hand  of  the  engi 
neer,  tears  stood  in  his  eyes.  Then,  reach 
ing  in  his  pocket,  he  drew  forth  a  card,  and 
writing  his  autograph  on  it,  he  gave  it  to  the 
astounded  engineer,  telling  him  to  use  it 
wisely  and  not  fritter  it  away.  'But  are  you 
not  robbing  yourself?'  exclaimed  the  aston 
ished  and  delighted  engineer.  'No,  oh  no/ 
said  the  munificent  parent,  'I  have  others 
left.'  And  this  is  the  man  who  asks  our 
suffrages !  Will  you  vote  for  him  or  for 
Alick  Meyerdinger,  the  purest  one-legged  man 
that  ever  rapped  with  his  honest  knuckles  on 
top  of  a  bar  and  asked  the  boys  to  put  a 
name  to  it." 

Ill 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

I  was  pained  to  read  this,  for  I  had  not  at 
that  time  toyed  much  with  politics,  but  I' 
went  up  stairs  and  practiced  an  hour  or  two 
on  a  hollow  laugh  that  I  thought  would  hide 
the  pain  which  seemed  to  tug  at  my  heart 
strings.  For  the  rest  of  the  day  I  strolled 
about  town  bearing  a  lurid  campaign  smile 
that  looked  about  as  joyous  as  the  light- 
hearted  gambols  of  a  tin  horse. 

I  visited  my  groceryman,  a  man  whom  I 
felt  that  I  could  trust,  and  who  had  honored 
me  in  the  same  way.  He  said  that  I  ought  to 
be  indorsed  by  my  fellow-citizens.  "What! 
All  of  them?"  I  exclaimed,  with  a  choking 
sensation,  for  I  had  once  tried  to  be  indorsed 
by  one  of  my  fellow-citizens  and  was  not  en 
tirely  successful.  "No,"  said  he,  "but  you 
ought  to  be  ratified  and  indorsed  by  those 
who  know  you  best  and  love  you  most." 

"Well,  "said  I,  "will  you  attend  to  that?" 

"Yes,  of  course  I  will.  You  must  not  giva 
up  hope.  Where  do  you  buy  your  meat?" 

I  told  him  the  name  of  my  butcher. 

"And  do  you  owe  him  about  the  same  that 
you  do  me?" 

112 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

I  said  I  didn't  think  there  could  be  $5  one 
way  or  the  other. 

"Well,  give  me  a  memorandum  of  what 
you  can  call  to  mind  that  you  owe  around 
town.  I  will  see  all  these  parties  and  we  will 
get  them  together  and  work  up  a  strong 
and  hearty  home  indorsement  for  you,  which 
will  enable  you  to  settle  with  all  of  us  at  par 
in  the  event  of  your  election." 

I  gave  him  a  list. 

That  evening  a  load  of  lumber  was  depos 
ited  on  my  lawn,  and  a  man  came  in  to  bor 
row  a  few  pounds  of  fence  nails.  I  asked 
him  what  he  wanted  to  do,  for  I  thought  he 
was  going  to  nail  a  campaign  lie  or  something. 
He  said  he  was  the  man  who  was  sent  up  to 
build  a  kind  of  "trussle"  in  front  of  my 
house.  "What  for?"  I  asked,  with  eyes 
like  a  startled  fawn.  "Why,  for  the  speakers 
to  stand  on,"  he  said.  "It  is  a  kind  of  a 
combination  racket.  Something  between  a 
home  indorsement  and  a  mass-meeting  of 
creditors.  You  are  to  be  surprised  and  grat 
ified  to-morrow  evening,  as  near  as  I  can 
make  out." 

8  113 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

He  then  built  a  wobbly  scaffold,  one  end 
of  which  was  nailed  to  the  bay  window  of  the 
house. 

The  next  evening  my  heart  swelled  when  I 
heard  a  campaign  band  coming  up  the  street, 
trying  to  see  how  little  it  could  play  and  still 
draw  its  salary.  The  band  was  followed  by 
men  with  torches,  and  speakers  in  carriages. 
A  messenger  was  sent  into  the  house  to  tell 
me  that  I  was  about  to  be  waited  upon  by  my 
old  friends  and  neighbors,  who  desired  to  de 
liver  to  me  their  hearty  indorsement,  and  a 
large  willow-covered  two-gallon  godspeed  as 
a  mark  of  esteem. 

The  spokesman,  as  soon  as  I  had  stepped 
out  on  my  veranda,  mounted  the  improvised 
platform  previously  erected,  and  after  a  short 
and  debilitated  solo  and  chorus  by  the  band, 
said  as  follows,  as  near  as  I  can  now  recall 
his  words : 
"Mr.  Nye— 

"SiR:   We  have  read  with  pain  the  open 

and  venomous  attacks  of  the  foul  and  putrid 

press  of  our  town,  and  come  here  to-night  to 

vindicate  by  our   presence  your  utter  inno- 

114 


"Mr.  Nye,  on  behalf  of  this  vast  assemblage  (tremulo),  I 
thank  God  that  you  are  POOR!!!    (Page  115) 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

cence  as  a  man,  as  a  fellow-citizen,  as  a 
neighbor,  as  a  father,  mother,  brother  or  sis 
ter. 

"No  one  could  look  down  into  your  open 
face,  and  deep,  earnest  lungs,  and  then  doubt 
you  as  a  man,  as  a  fellow-citizen,  as  a  neigh 
bor,  as  a  father,  mother,  brother  or  sister. 
You  came  to  us  a  poor  man,  and  staked  your 
all  on  the  growth  of  this  town.  We  like  you 
because  you  are  still  poor.  You  can  not  be 
too  poor  to  suit  us.  It  shows  that  you  are 
not  corrupt. 

"Mr.  Nye,  on  behalf  of  this  vast  as 
semblage  (tremulo),  I  thank  God  that  you 
are  POOR!!!" 

He  then  drew  from  his  pocket  a  little 
memorandum,  and,  holding  it  up  to  a  torch, 
so  that  he  could  see  it  better,  said  that  Mr. 
Limberquid  would  emit  a  few  desultory  re 
marks. 

Mr.  Limberquid,  to  whom  I  was  at  that 
time  indebted  for  past  favors  in  the  meat  line, 
or,  as  you  may  say,  the  tenderloin,  through 
no  fault  of  mine,  then  arose  and  said,  in  words 
and  figures  as  follows,  to  wit: 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

"SlR:  I  desire  to  say  that  we  who  know 
Mr.  Nye  best  are  here  to  say  that  he  cer 
tainly  has  one  of  the  most  charming  wives  in 
this  territory.  What  do  we  care  for  the  vil 
ifications  of  the  press — a  press,  hired,  venial, 
corrupt,  reeking  in  filth  and  oozy  with  the 
slime  of  its  own  impaired  circulation,  snapping 
at  the  heels  of  its  superiors,  and  steeped  in 
the  reeking  poison  and  pollution  of  its  own 
shopworn  and  unmarketable  opinions? 

"We  do  not  care  a  cuss!  (Applause.) 
What  do  we  care  that  homely  men  grudge 
our  candidate  his  symmetry  of  form  and 
graceful  upholstered  carriage?  What  do  we 
care  that  calumny  crawls  out  of  its  hole,  cal 
umniates  him  a  couple  of  times  and  then 
goes  back?  We  are  here  to-night  to  show  by 
our  presence  that  we  like  Mrs.  Nye  very  much. 
She  is  a  good  cook,  and  she  would  certainly 
do  honor  to  this  district  as  a  social  leader,  in 
case  she  should  go  to  Cheyenne  as  the  wife 
of  our  assemblyman.  I  propose  three  cheers 
for  her,  fellow-citizens."  (Applause,  cheers 
and  throbs  of  base-drum.) 

Mr.  Sherrod  then  said: 
116 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

"  FELLER-CITIZENS:  We  glory  in  the  fact 
that  Whatshisname — Nye  here,  is  pore.  We 
like  him  for  the  poverty  he  has  made.  Our  idee 
in  runnin'  of  him  fer  the  legislator,  as  I  take 
it,  is  to  not  only  run  him  along  in  this  here 
kind  of  hand-to-mouth  poverty,  but  to  kind 
of  give  him  a  chance  to  accumulate  poverty, 
and  have  some  saved  up  fer  a  rainy  day. 

"I  kin  call  to  mind  how  he  looked  when 
he  come  to  this  territory  a  pore  boy,  and 
took  off  his  coat  and  went  right  to  work 
dealin'  faro  nights,  and  earning  his  bread  by 
the  sweat  of  a  sweat-board  daytimes,  for  Tom 
Dillon,  acrost  from  the  express  office.  And 
I  say  he  is  not  a  clost  man.  He  gives  his 
money  where  folks  don't  git  on  to  it.  He 
don't  git  out  the  band  when  he  goes  to  do  a 
kind  act,  but  kind  of  sneaks  around  to  people 
who  are  in  need,  and  offers  to  match  'em  fer 
the  cigars. 

"He's  a  feller  of  generous  impulses,  gen 
tlemen,  or  at  least  I  so  regard  him,  and  I  say 
here  to-night,  that  if  his  other  vitals  was 
as  big-  and  warm  as  his  heart,  he  would  live 


117 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

to  deckorate  the  graves  of  nations  yet  un 
born." 

Several  people  wept  here,  and  wiped  their 
eyes  on  their  alabaster  hands.  I  then  sent 
my  maid  around  through  the  audience  with  a 
bucketful  of  Salt  Lake  cider,  and  a  dishpan 
full  of  doughnuts,  to  restore  good  feeling. 
But  I  can  not  soon  forget  how  proud  I  was 
when  I  felt  the  hot  tears  and  doughnut 
crumbs  of  my  fellow  -  citizens  raining  down 
my  back. 

The  band  then  played,  "See  the  Conquer 
ing  Hero  Comes,"  and  yielding  to  the  press 
ing  demands  of  the  populi,  I  made  a  few 
irrelevant,  but  low,  passionate  remarks,  as 
follows : 

"FELLOW -CITIZENS  AND  MEMBERS  OF 
THE  BAND — We  are  not  here,  as  I  understand 
it,  solely  to  tickle  our  palates  with  the  twisted 
doughnuts  of  our  pampered  and  sin-cursed 
civilization,  but  to  unite  and  give  our  pledges 
once  more  to  the  support  of  the  best  men. 
In  this  teacup  of  foaming  and  impervious  cider 
from  the  Valley  of  the  Jordan  I  drink  to  the 
118 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

success  of  the  best  men.  Fellow-citizens  and 
members  of  the  band,  we  owe  our  fealty  to 
the  old  party.  Let  us  cling  to  the  old  party 
as  long  as  there  is  any  juice  in  it  and  vote  for 
its  candidates.  Let  us  give  our  suffrages  to 
men  of  advanced  thought  who  are  loyal  to 
their  party  but  poor.  Gentlemen,  I  am  what 
would  be  called  a  poor  but  brainy  man. 
When  I  am  not  otherwise  engaged  you  will 
always  find  me  engaged  in  thought.  I  love 
the  excitement  of  following  an  idea  and  chas 
ing  it  up  a  tree.  It  is  a  great  pleasure  for 
me  to  pursue  the  red-hot  trail  of  a  thought  or 
the  intellectual  spoor  of  an  idea.  But  I  do 
not  allow  this  habit  to  interfere  with  politics. 
Politics  and  thought  are  radically  different. 
Why  should  man  think  himself  weak  on  these 
political  matters  when  there  are  men  who 
have  made  it  their  business  and  life  study  to 
do  the  thinking  for  the  masses? 

"This  is  my  platform.  I  believe  that  a 
candidate  should  be  poor;  that  he  should 
be  a  thinker  on  other  matters,  but  leave  po 
litical  matters  and  nominations  to  professional 
political  ganglia  and  molders  of  primaries 
119 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

who  have  given  their  lives  and  the  inner  coat 
ing  of  their  stomachs  to  the  advancement  of 
political  methods  by  which  the  old,  cumber 
some  and  dangerous  custom  of  defending  our 
institutions  with  drawn  swords  may  be  super 
seded  by  the  modern  and  more  attractive 
method  of  doing  so  with  overdrawn  salaries. 
"Fellow-citizens  and  members  of  the  band, 
in  closing  let  me  say  that  you  have  seen  me 
placed  in  the  trying  position  of  postmaster 
for  the  past  year.  For  that  length  of  time  I 
have  stood  between  you  and  the  government 
at  Washington.  I  have  assisted  in  uphold 
ing  the  strong  arm  of  the  government,  and 
yet  I  have  not  allowed  it  to  crush  you.  No 
man  here  to-night  can  say  that  I  have  ever, 
by  word  or  deed,  revealed  outside  the  office 
the  contents  of  a  postal  card  addressed  to  a 
member  of  my  own  party  or  held  back  or  ob 
structed  the  progress  of  new  and  startling 
seeds  sent  by  our  representative  from  the 
Agricultural  Department.  I  am  in  favor  of  a 
full  and  free  interchange  of  interstate  red- 
eyed  and  pale  beans,  and  I  favor  the  early 
advancement  and  earnest  recognition  of  the 
120 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

merits  of  the  highly  offensive  partisan.  I  thank 
you,  neighbors  and  band  (husky  and  pianissi 
mo),  for  this  gratifying  little  demonstration. 
Words  seem  empty  and  unavailing  at  this 
time.  Will  you  not  accept  the  hospitality  of 
my  home?  Neighbors,  you  are  welcome  to 
these  halls.  Come  in  and  look  at  the  family 
album/' 

The  meeting  then  became  informal,  and 
the  chairman  asked  me  as  he  came  down 
from  his  perch  how  I  would  be  fixed  by  the 
first  of  the  month.  I  told  him  that  I  could 
not  say,  but  hoped  that  money  matters  would 
show  less  apathy  by  that  time. 

I  have  already  taken  up  too  much  space, 
however,  in  this  simple  recital,  and  I  have 
only  room  to  say  that  I  was  not  elected,  and 
that  of  the  seventy-five  who  came  up  to  in 
dorse  me* and  then  go  home  exhilarated  by 
my  cheering  doughnuts,  forty  voted  for  the 
other  man,  thereby  electing  him  by  a  plural 
ity  of  everybody.  Home  indorsement,  hard- 
boiled  eggs  and  hot  tears  of  reconciliation 
can  never  fool  me  again.  They  are  as  empty 
as  the  bass  drum  by  which  they  are  invari- 
124 


AS  A  CANDIDATE. 

ably  accompanied.  A  few  years  ago  a  ma 
jority  of  the  voters  of  a  newly-fledged  city  in 
Wisconsin  signed  a  petition  asking  a  gentle 
man  named  Bradshaw  to  run  for  the  office  of 
mayor.  He  said  he  did  not  want  it,  but  if  a 
majority  had  signified  in  writing  that  they 
needed  him  every  hour,  he  would  allow  his 
name  to  be  used.  They  then  turned  in  and 
defeated  him  by  a  handsome  majority,  thus 
showing  that  the  average  patriotism  of  the 
present  day  has  a  string  to  it. 

Who  was  the  first  to  make  the  claim 
That  I  would  surely  win  the  game, 
But  now  that  Dennis  is  my  name  ? 
The  Patriot. 

Who  stated  that  my  chance  was  best, 
And  came  and  wept  upon  my  breast, 
Only  to  knock  me  galley  West  ? 
The  Patriot. 

Who  told  me  of  the  joy  he  felt, 
While  he  upon  my  merits  dwelt  ? 
Who  then  turned  in  and  took  my  pelt  ? 
The  Patriot. 


122 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS 

XIII 

"A  X  7"E  kep  summer  boarders  the  past  sea- 
VV  son,"  said  Orlando  McCusick,  of 
East  Kortright,  to  me  as  we  sat  in  the  spring- 
house  and  drank  cold  milk  from  a  large  yellow 
bowl  with  white  stripes  around  it;  "we  kep' 
boarders  from  town  all  summer  in  the  Cats- 
kills,  and  that  is  why  I  don't  figger  on  doing 
of  it  this  year.  You  fellers  that  writes  the 
pieces  and  makes  the  pictures  of  us  folks  what 
keeps  the  boarders  has  got  the  laugh  on  us  as 
a  general  thing,  but  I  would  like  to  be  inter 
viewed  a  little  for  the  press,  so's  that  I  can  be 
set  right  before  the  American  people." 

"Well,  if  you  will  state  the  case  fairly  and 
honestly,  I  will  try  to  give  you  a  chance." 

"In  the  first  place,"  said  Orlando,  taking 
off    his    boot    and    removing    his    jack-knife 
which  had  worked  its  way  through  his  pocket 
123 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

and  down  his  leg,  then  squinting  along  the 
new  "tap"  with  one  eye  to  see  how  it  was 
wearing  before  he  put  it  on,  "I  did  not  know 
how  healthy  it  was  here  until  I  read  in  a  rail 
road  pamphlet,  I  guess  you  call  it,  where  it 
says  that  the  relation  of  temperature  to  oxy 
gen  in  a  certain  quantity  of  air  is  of  the  high 
est  importance.  'In  a  cubic  foot,'  it  says,  'of 
air  at  3,000  feet  elevation,  with  a  temperature 
of  32  degrees,  there  is  as  much  oxygen  as  in 
a  like  amount  of  air  at  sea  level  with  a  tem 
perature  of  65  degrees.  Another  important 
fact  that  should  not  be  lost  sight  of,'  this  able 
feller  says,  'by  those  affected  by  pulmonary 
diseases,  is  that  three  or  four  times  as  much 
oxygen  is  consumed  in  activity  as  in  repose.' 
(Hence  the  hornet's  nests  introduced  by  me 
last  season.)  'Then  in  climates  made  stimu 
lating  by  increased  electric  tension  and  cold, 
activity  must  be  followed  by  an  increased  en- 
dosmose  of  oxygen.' ' 

"So  you  decided  to  select  and  furnish  en- 
dosmose  of  oxygen  to  sufferers?" 

"Yes.  I  went  into  it  with  no  notions  of 
making  a  pile  of  money,  but  I  argued  that 
124 


'Three  or'foUr  tiUes'as  much  oxygen  is  con 
sumed  in  activity  as  in  repose.'  (Hence  the  Jiornet's  nests  in 
troduced  by  me  last  season.)  (Page  124) 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

these  folks  would  give  anything  for  health. 
We  folks  are  apt  to  argy  that  people  from 
town  are  all  well  off  and  liberal,  and  that  if 
they  can  come  out  and  get  all  the  butter 
milk  and  straw  rides  they  want,  and  a  little 
flush  of  color  and  a  wood-tick  on  the  back  of 
their  necks,  they  don't  reck  a  pesky  reck 
what  it  costs.  This  is  only  occasionly  so. 
Ask  any  doctor  you  know  of  if  the  average 
man  won't  give  anything  to  save  his  life,  and 
then  when  it's  saved  put  his  propity  into 
his  womern's  name.  That's  human.  You 
know  the  good  book  says  a  pure  man  from 
New  York  is  the  noblest  work  of  God." 

"Well,  when  did  this  desire  to  endosmose 
your  fellow-man  first  break  out  on  you?" 

"About  a  year  and  a  half  ago  it  began  to 
rankle  in  my  mind.  I  read  up  everything  I 
could  get  hold  of  regarding  the  longevity 
and  such  things  to  be  had  here.  In  the 
winter  I  sent  in  a  fair,  honest,  advertisement 
regarding  my  place,  and,  Judas  H.  Priest! 
before  I  could  say  'scat'  in  the  spring,  here 
came  letters  by  the  dozen,  mostly  from  school 
teachers  at  first,  that  had  a  good  command 
125 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

of  language,  but  did  not  come.  I  afterwards 
learned  that  these  letters  was  frequently  wrote 
by  folks  that  was  not  able  to  go  into  the 
country,  so  wrote  these  letters  for  mental  im 
provement,  hoping  also  that  some  one  in 
the  country  might  want  them  for  the  refine 
ment  they  would  engender  in  the  family. 

"I  took  one  young  woman  from  town  once, 
and  allowed  her  25  per  cent,  off  for  her  refin 
ing  influence.  Her  name  was  Etiquette 
McCracken.  She  knew  very  little  in  the  first 
place,  and  had  added  to  it  a  good  deal  by 
storing  up  in  her  mind  a  lot  of  membranous 
theories  and  damaged  facts  that  ought  to  ben 
looked  over  and  disinfected.  She  was  the 
most  hopeless  case  I  ever  saw,  Mr.  Nye.  She 
was  a  metropolitan  ass.  You  know  that  a 
town  greenhorn  is  the  greenest  greenhorn  in 
the  world,  because  he  can't  be  showed  any 
thing.  He  knows  it  all.  Well,  Etiquette 
McCracken  very  nigh  paralyzed  what  few 
manners  my  children  had.  She  pointed  at 
things  at  table,  and  said  she  wanted  some  o' 
that,  and  she  had  a  sort  of  a  starved  way  of 
eating,  and  short  breath,  and  seemed  all  the 
126 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

time  apprehensive.  She  probably  et  off  the 
top  of  a  flour  barrel  at  home.  She  came 
and  stayed  all  summer  at  our  house,  with  a 
wardrobe  which  was  in  a  shawl-strap  wrap 
ped  up  in  a  programme  of  one  of  them  big 
theaters  on  Bowery  street.  I  guess  she  led 
a  gay  life  in  the  city.  She  said  she  did.  She 
said  if  her  set  was  at  our  house  they  would 
make  it  ring  with  laughter.  I  said  if  they 
did  I'd  wring  their  cussed  necks  with  laugh 
ter.  'Why/  she  says,  'don't  you  like  merri 
ment?'  'Yes,'  I  says,  'I  like  merriment  well 
enough,  but  the  cackle  of  a  vacant  mind  rat 
tling  around  in  a  big  farmhouse  makes  me  a 
fiend,  and  unmans  me,  and  I  gnaw  up  two  or 
three  people  a  day  till  I  get  over  it,'  I  says." 
"Well,  what  became  of  Miss  McCracken?" 
"Oh,  she  went  up  to  her  room  in  Septem 
ber,  dressed  herself  in  a  long  linen  duster, 
did  some  laundry  work,  and  the  next  day, 
with  her  little  shawl-strap,  she  lit  out  for  the 
city,  where  she  was  engaged  to  marry  a 
very  wealthy  old  man  whose  mind  had  been 
crowded  out  by  an  intellectual  tumor,  but  who 
had  a  kind  heart  and  had  pestered  her  to 
127 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

death  for  years  to  marry  him  and  inherit  his 
wealth.  I  afterwards  learned  that  in  this 
matter  she  had  lied." 

"Did  you  meet  any  other  pleasant  people 
last  season?" 

"Yes.  I  met  some  blooded  children  from 
Several  Hundred  and  Fifth  street.  They 
come  here  so's  they  could  get  a  breath  of 
country  air  and  wear  out  their  old  cloze. 
Their  mother  said  the  poor  things  wanted  to 
get  out  of  the  mawlstrum  of  meetropolitan 
life.  She  said  it  was  awful  where  they  lived. 
Just  one  round  of  gayety  all  the  while.  They 
come  down  and  salted  my  hens,  and  then 
took  and  turned  in  and  chased  a  new  milch 
cow  eight  miles,  with  two  of  'em  holdin'  of 
her  by  the  tail,  and  another  on  top  of  her 
with  a  pair  of  Buffalo  Bill  spurs  and  a  false 
face,  yelling  like  a  volunteer  fire  company. 
Then  the  old  lady  kicked  because  we  run 
short  of  milk.  Said  it  was  great  if  she 
couldn't  have  milk  when  she  come  to  the 
wilderness  to  live  and  paid  her  little  old  $3 
a  week  just  as  regular  as  Saturday  night  come 
round. 

128 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

"These  boys  picked  on  mine  all  summer 
because  my  boys  was  plain  little  fellers  with 
no  underwear,  but  good  impulses  and  a  gen 
eral  desire  to  lay  low  and  eventually  git 
there,  understand.  My  boys  is  considerable 
bleached  as  regards  hair,  and  freckled  as  to 
features,  and  they  are  not  ready  in  con 
versation  like  a  town  boy,  but  they  would  no 
more  drive  a  dumb  animal  through  the  woods 
till  it  was  all  het  up,  or  take  a  new  milch  cow 
and  scare  the  daylights  out  of  her,  and  yell 
at  her  and  pull  out  her  tail,  and  send  her 
home  with  her  pores  all  open,  than  they'd  be 
sent  to  the  legislature  without  a  crime. 

"A  neighbor  of  mine  that  see  these  boys 
when  they  was  scarin'  my  cow  to  death  said 
if  they'd  of  been  his'n  he'd  rather  foller'em 
to  their  grave  than  seen  'em  do  that.  That's 
putting  of  it  rather  strong,  but  I  believe  I 
would  myself. 

"We  had  a  nice  old  man  that  come  out 
here  to  attend  church,  he  said.  He  belonged 
to  a  big  church  in  town,  where  it  cost  him  so 
much  that  he  could  hardly  look  his  Maker  in 
the  face,  he  said.  Last  winter,  he  told  us, 
9  129 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

they  sold  the  pews  at  auction,  and  he  had  an 
affection  for  one,  'specially  'cause  he  and  his 
wife  had  set  in  it  all  their  lives,  and  now  that 
she  was  dead  he  wanted  it,  as  he  wanted  the 
roof  that  had  been  over  them  all  their  mar 
ried  lives.  So  he  went  down  when  they  auc 
tioned  'em  off,  as  it  seems  they  do  in  those 
big  churches,  and  the  bidding  started  moder 
ate,  but  run  up  till  they  put  a  premium  on 
his'n  that  froze  him  out,  and  he  had  to  take  a 
cheap  one  where  he  couldn't  hear  very  well, 
and  it  made  him  sort  of  bitter.  Then  in  May, 
he  says,  the  Palestine  rash  broke  out  among 
the  preachers  in  New  York,  and  most  of  'em 
had  to  go  to  the  Holy  Land  to  get  over  it, 
because  that  is  the  only  thing  you  can  do 
with  the  Palestine  rash  when  it  gets  a  hold 
on  a  pastor.  So  he  says  to  me,  'I  come  out 
here  mostly  to  see  if  I  could  get  any  informa 
tion  from  the  Throne  of  Grace.' 

"He  was  a  rattlin'  fine  old  feller,  and  told 
me  a  good  deal  about  one  thing  and  another. 
He  said  he'd  seen  it  stated  in  the  paper  that 
salvation  was  free,  but  in  New  York  he  said 


130 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

it  was  pretty  well  protected  for  an  old-estab 
lished  industry. 

"He  knew  Deacon  Decker  pretty  well. 
Deacon  Decker  was  an  old  playmate  of  Rus 
sell  Sage,  but  didn't  do  so  well  as  Russ  did. 
He  went  once  to  New  York  after  he  got  along 
in  years,  and  Sage  knew  him,  but  he  couldn't 
seem  to  place  Sage.  'Why,  Decker,'  says 
Sage,  'don't  you  know  me?'  Decker  says, 
'That's  all  right.  You  bet  I  know  ye.  You're 
one  of  these  fellows  that  knows  everybody. 
There's  another  feller  around  the  corner  that 
helps  you  to  remember  folks.  I  know  ye.  I 
read  the  papers.  Git  out.  Scat.  Torment 
ye,  I  ain't  in  here  to-day  buyin'  green  goods, 
nor  yet  to  lift  a  freight  bill  for  ye.  So  avaunt 
before  I  sick  the  police  on  ye.' 

"Finally  Russ  identified  himself,  and  shook 
dice  with  the  deacon  to  see  which  should  buy 
the  lunch  at  the  dairy  kitchen.  This  is  a  true 
story,  told  me  by  an  old  neighbor  of  Deacon 
Decker's. 

"Deacon  Decker  once  discovered  a  loose 
knot  in  his  pew  seat  in  church,  and  while 
considering  the  plan  of  redemption,  thought- 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

lessly  pushed  with  considerable  force  on  this 
knot  with  his  thumb.  At  first  it  resisted  the 
pressure,  but  finally  it  slipped  out  and  was 
succeeded  by  the  deacon's  thumb.  No  one 
saw  it,  so  the  deacon,  slightly  flushed,  gave 
it  a  stealthy  wrench,  but  the  knot-hole  had  a 
sharp  conical  bottom,  and  the  edge  soon 
caught  and  secured  the  rapidly  swelling 
thumb  of  Deacon  Decker. 

"During  the  closing  prayer  he  worked  at 
it  with  great  diligence  and  all  the  saliva  he 
could  spare,  but  it  resisted.  It  was  a  sad 
sight.  Finally  he  gave  it  up,  and  said  to 
himself  the  struggle  was  useless.  He  tried 
to  be  resigned  and  wait  till  all  had  gone.  He 
shook  his  head  when  the  plate  was  passed 
to  him,  and  only  bowed  when  the  brethren 
passed  him  on  the  way  out.  Some  thought 
that  maybe  he  was  cursed  with  doubts,  but 
reckoned  that  they  would  pass  away. 

"Finally  he  was  missed  outside.  He  was 
generally  so  chipper  and  so  cheery.  So  his 
wife  was  asked  about  him.  'Why,  father's 
inside.  I'll  go  and  get  him.  I  never  knew 


132 


SUMMER  BOARDERS  AND  OTHERS. 

him  to  miss  shaking  hands  with  all  the 
folks.' 

"So  she  went  in  and  found  Deacon  Decker 
trying  to  interest  himself  with  a  lesson  leaf 
in  one  hand,  while  his  other  was  concealed 
under  his  hat.  He  could  fool  the  neighbors, 
but  he  could  not  fool  his  wife,  and  so  she 
hustled  around  and  told  one  or  two,  who  told 
their  wives,  and  they  all  came  back  to  see  the 
deacon  and  make  suggestions  to  him. 

"This  little  incident  is  true,  and  while  it 
does  not  contain  any  special  moral,  it  goes  to 
show  that  an  honest  man  gathers  no  moss, 
and  also  explains  a  large  circular  hole,  and 
the  tin  patch  over  it,  which  may  still  be  seen 
in  the  pew  where  Deacon  Decker  used  to 
sit." 


133 


THREE  OPEN  LETTERS 

XIV 

Colonel  John  L.  Sullivan,  at  large: 

DEAR  SIR — Will  you  permit  me,  without 
wishing  to  give  you  the  slightest  offense,  to 
challenge  you  to  fight  in  France  with  bare 
knuckles  and  police  interference,  between  this 
and  the  close  of  navigation? 

I  have  had  no  real  good  fight  with  any 
body  for  some  time,  and  should  be  glad  to  co 
operate  with  you  in  that  direction,  preferring, 
however,  to  have  it  attended  to  in  time  so  that 
I  can  go  on  with  my  fall  plowing.  I  should 
also  like  to  be  my  own  stake  holder. 

We  shall  have  to  fight  at  135  pounds,  be 
cause  I  can  not  train  above  that  figure  with 
out  extra  care  and  good  feeding,  while  you 
could  train  down  to  that,  I  judge,  if  you  be 
gin  to  go  without  food  on  receipt  of  this  chal 
lenge.  I  should  ask  that  we  fight  under  the 
134 


THREE  OPEN  LETTERS. 

rules  of  the  London  prize  ring,  in  the  Opera 
House  in  Paris.  If  you  decide  to  accept,  I 
will  engage  the  house  at  once  and  put  a  few 
good  reading  notices  in  the  papers. 

I  should  expect  a  forfeit  of  $5,ooo  to  be 
put  up,  so  that  in  case  you  are  in  jail  at  the 
time,  I  may  have  something  to  reimburse  me 
for  my  trip  to  Paris  and  the  general  up 
heaval  of  my  whole  being  which  arises  from 
ocean  travel. 

I  challenge  you  as  a  plain  American  citizen 
and  an  amateur,  partially  to  assert  the  rights 
of  a  simple  tax-payer  and  partly  to  secure  for 
myself  a  name.  I  was,  as  a  boy,  the  pride  of 
my  parents,  and  they  wanted  me  to  amount 
to  something.  So  far,  the  results  have  been 
different.  Will  you  not  aid  me,  a  poor  strug- 
gler  in  the  great  race  for  supremacy,  to  ob 
tain  that  notice  which  the  newspapers  now  so 
reluctantly  yield?  You  are  said  to  be  gener 
ous  to  a  fault,  especially  your  own  faults,  and 
I  plead  with  you  now  to  share  your  great 
fame  by  accepting  my  challenge  and  appear 
ing  with  me  in  a  mixed  programme  for  the 
evening,  in  which  we  will  jointly  amuse  and 
135 


THREE  OPEN  LETTERS. 

instruct  the  people,  while  at  the  same  time  it 
will  give  me  a  chance  to  become  great  in  one 
day,  even  if  I  am  defeated. 

I  have  often  admired  your  scholarly  and 
spiritual  expressions,  and  your  modest  life, 
and  you  will  remember  that  at  one  time  I 
asked  you  for  your  autograph,  and  you  told 
me  to  go  where  the  worm  dieth  not  and 
the  fire  department  is  ineffectual.  Will 
you  not,  I  ask,  aid  a  struggler  and  panter 
for  fame,  who  desires  the  eye  of  the  public, 
even  if  his  own  be  italicised  at  the  same  time? 

I  must  close  this  challenge,  which  is  in  the 
nature  of  an  appeal  to  one  of  America's  best- 
known  men.  Will  you  accept  my  humble 
challenge,  so  that  I  can  go  into  training  at 
once?  We  can  leave  the  details  of  the  fight 
to  the  Mail  and  Express,  if  you  will,  and 
the  championship  belt  we  can  buy  afterward. 
All  I  care  for  is  the  honor  of  being  mixed 
up  with  you  in  some  way,  and  enough  of  the 
gate  money  to  pay  for  arnica  and  medical  at 
tendance. 

Will  you  do  it? 

I  know  the  audience  would  enjoy  seeing  us 

136 


THREE  OPEN  LETTERS. 

dressed  for  the  fray,  you  so  strong  and  so 
wide,  I  so  pensive  and  so  flat  busted  about 
the  chest.  Let  us  proceed  at  once,  Colonel, 
to  draw  up  the  writings  and  begin  to  train. 
You  will  never  regret  it,  I  am  sure,  and  it 
will  be  the  making  of  me. 

I  do  not  know  your  address,  but  trust  that 
this  will  reach  you  through  this  book,  for,  as 
I  write,  you  are  on  you  way  toward  Canada, 
with  a  requisition  and  the  police  reaching  after 
you  at  every  town. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  not  drink 
ing  any  more,  especially  while  engaged  in 
sleep.  If  you  only  confine  your  drinking  to 
your  waking  hours,  you  may  live  to  be  a  very 
old  man,  and  your  great,  massive  brain  will 
continue  to  expand  until  your  hat  will  not  be 
gin  to  hold  it. 

What  do  you  think  of  Browning?  I  should 
like  to  converse  with  you  on  the  subject  be 
fore  the  fight,  and  get  your  soul's  best  sen 
timents  on  his  style  of  intangible  thought 
wave. 

I  will  meet  you  at  Havre  or  Calais,  and 
agree  with  you  how  hard  we  shall  hit  each 
137 


THREE  OPEN  LETTERS. 

other.  I  saw,  at  a  low  variety  show  the  other 
day,  two  pleasing  comedians  who  welted  each 
other  over  the  stomach  with  canes,  and  also 
pounded  each  other  on  the  head  with  sufficient 
force  to  explode  percussion  caps  on  the  top 
of  the  skull,  and  yet  without  injury.  Do  you 
not  think  that  a  prize-fight  could  be  thus  pro 
vided  for?  I  will  see  these  men,  if  you  say 
so,  and  learn  their  methods. 

Remember,  it  is  not  the  punishment  of  a 
prize-fight  for  which  I  yearn,  but  the  efful 
gent  glory  of  meeting  you  in  the  ring,  and 
having  the  cables  and  the  press  associate  my 
budding  name  with  that  of  a  man  who  has 
done  so  much  to  make  men  better — a  man 
whose  name  will  go  down  to  posterity  as  that 
of  one  who  sought  to  ameliorate  and  mellow 
and  desiccate  his  fellow-men. 

I  will  now  challenge  you  once  more,  with 
great  respect,  and  beg  leave  to  remain,  yours 
very  truly,  BILL  NYE. 

Hon.  Ferdinand  de  Lesseps,  Paris,  France: 

DEAR  SIR — I  have  some  shares  in  the  canal 
which  you  have  been  working  on,  and  I  am 

138 


THREE  OPEN  LETTERS. 

compelled  to  hypothecate  them  this  summer, 
in  order  to  paint  my  house.  You  have  great 
faith  in  the  future  of  the  enterprise,  and  so  I 
will  give  you  the  first  chance  on  this  stock  of 
mine.  You  have  suffered  so  much  in  order  to 
do  this  work  that  I  want  to  see  the  stock  get 
into  your  hands.  You  deserve  it.  You  shall 
have  it.  Ferdie,  if  you  will  send  me  a  post- 
office  money  order  by  return  mail,  covering 
the  par  value  of  five  hundred  shares,  I  will 
lose  the  premium,  because  I  am  a  little  pressed 
for  money.  The  painters  will  be  through  next 
week,  and  will  want  their  pay. 

As  I  say,  I  want  to  see  you  own  the  canal, 
for  in  fancy  I  can  see  you  as  you  toiled  down 
there  in  the  hot  sun,  floating  your  wheelbar 
row  and  your  bonds  down  the  valley  with  your 
perspiration.  I  can  see  you  in  the  morning, 
with  hot,  red  hands  and  a  tin  dinner  pail,  go 
ing  to  your  toil,  a  large  red  cotton  handker 
chief  sticking  out  of  your  hip  pocket. 

So  I  have  decided   that  you  ought  to  have 

control,  if  possible,  of  this  great  water  front ; 

besides,  you  have  a  larger  family  than  I  have 

to  support.     When  I  heard  that  you  were  the 

139 


THREE  OPEN  LETTERS. 

father  of  fifteen  little  children,  and  that  you 
were  in  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf,  I  said  to 
myself,  a  man  with  that  many  little  mouths 
to  feed,  at  the  age  of  eighty,  shall  have  the 
first  crack  at  my  stock.  And  so,  if  you  will 
send  the  face  value  as  soon  as  possible,  I  will 
say  bong  jaw,  messue.  Yours  truly, 

BILL  NYE. 

To  the  Seven  Haired  Sisters,  'Steenth  Street,  Neiv 
Tork: 

MESDAMES,  MAMSELLES  AND  FELLOW- 
CITIZENS — I  write  these  few  lines  to  say  that 
I  am  well  and  hope  this  will  find  you  all  en 
joying  the  same  great  blessing.  How  pleas 
ant  it  is  for  sisters  to  dwell  together  in  unity 
and  beloved  by  mankind.  You  must  indeed 
have  a  good  time  standing  in  the  window  day 
after  day,  pulling  your  long  hair  through 
your  fingers  with  pride.  When  I  first  saw 
you  all  thus  engaged,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
public,  I  thought  it  was  a  candy  pull. 

I  now  write  to  say  that  the  hair  promoter 
which  you  sold  me  at  the  time  is  not  up  to 
its  work.  It  was  a  year  ago  that  I  bought 
140 


THREE  OPEN  LETTERS. 

it,  and  I  think  that  in  a  year  something  ought 
to  show.  It  is  a  great  nuisance  for  a  public 
man  who  is  liable  to  come  home  late  at  night 
to  have  to  top-dress  his  head  before  he  can 
retire.  Your  directions  involve  great  care  and 
trouble  to  a  man  in  my  position,  and  still  I 
have  tried  faithfully  to  follow  them.  What  is 
the  result?  Nothing  but  disappointment,  and 
not  so  very  much  of  that. 

You  said,  if  you  remember,  that  your 
father  was  a  bald-headed  clergyman,  but  one 
day,  with  a  wild  shriek  of  ' '  Eureka  ! "  he  dis 
covered  this  hair  encourager,  and  for  the  rest 
of  his  life  filled  his  high  hat  with  hair  every 
time  he  put  it  on.  You  said  that  at  first  a 
fine  growth  of  down,  like  the  inside  of  a 
mouse's  ear,  would  be  seen,  after  that  the 
blade,  then  the  stalk,  and  the  full  corn  in 
the  ear.  In  a  pig's  ear,  I  am  now  led  to  be 
lieve. 

Fair,  but  false  seven-haired  sisters,  I  now 
bid  you  adieu.  You  have  lost  in  me  a  good, 
warm,  true-hearted,  and  powerful  friend.  Ask 
me  not  for  my  indorsement,  or  for  my  before 
and  after  taking  pictures  to  use  in  your  circu- 
141 


THREE  OPEN  LETTERS. 

lars ;  I  give  my  kind  words  and  photographs 
hereafter  to  the  soap  men.  They  are  what 
they  seem.  You  are  not. 

When  a  woman  betrays  me  she  must  be 
ware.  And  when  seven  of  them  do  so,  it  is 
that  much  worse.  You  fooled  me  with  smiles 
and  false  promises,  and  now  it  will  be  just  as 
well  for  you  to  look  out.  I  would  rather  die 
than  be  betrayed.  It  is  disagreeable.  It 
sours  one,  and  also  embitters  one. 

Here  at  this  point  our  ways  will  diverge. 
The  roads  fork  at  this  place.  I  shall  go  on 
upward  and  onward  hairless  and  cappy,  also 
careless  and  happy,  to  my  goal  in  life.  I  do 
not  know  whether  each  or  either  of  you  have 
provided  yourselves  with  goals  or  not,  but  if 
not  you  will  do  well  now  to  select  some.  The 
world  may  smile  upon  you,  and  gold  pour 
into  your  coffers,  but  the  day  will  come  when 
you  will  have  to  wrap  the  drapery  of  your 
hair  about  you  and  lie  down  to  pleasant 
dreams.  Then  will  arise  the  thought,  alas! — 
Then  You'll  Remember  Me. 

I  now  close  this  letter,  leaving  you  to  the 
keen  pangs  of  remorse  and  the  cruel  jabs  of 
142 


Some  people  are  born  bald,  others  acquire  baldness,  ivhilst 
still  others  have  baldness  thrust  upon  them  ivilh  a  paint  brush. 
(Page  143.) 


THREE    OPEN    LETTERS. 

unavailing  regret.  Some  people  are  born 
bald,  others  acquire  baldness,  whilst  still  oth 
ers  have  baldness  thrust  upon  them  with  a 
paint  brush.  Some  are  bald  on  the  outside 
of  their  heads,  others  on  the  inside.  But  oh, 
girls,  beware  of  baldness  on  the  soul.  I  ask 
you,  even  if  you  are  the  daughters  of  a  cler 
gyman,  to  think  seriously  of  what  I  have  said. 
Yours  truly,  BILL  NYE. 


143 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE 
xv 

WITHOUT  wishing  to  alarm  the  Amer^ 
ican  people,  or  create  a  panic,  I  de 
sire  briefly  and  seriously  to  discuss  the  great 
question,  "Whither  are  we  drifting,  and  what 
is  to  be  the  condition  of  the  coming  man?" 
We  can  not  shut  our  eyes  to  the  fact  that 
mankind  is  passing  through  a  great  era  of 
change;  even  womankind  is  not  built  as  she 
was  a  few  brief  years  ago.  And  is  it  not 
time,  fellow  citizens,  that  we  pause  to  con 
sider  what  is  to  be  the  future  of  the  Amer 
ican? 

Food  itself  has  been  the  subject  of  change 
both  in  the  matter  of  material  and  prepara 
tion.  This  must  affect  the  consumer  in  such 
a  way  as  to  some  day  bring  about  great  dif 
ferences.  Take,  for  instance,  the  oyster,  one 
of  our  comparatively  modern  food  and  game 
144 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

fishes,  and  watch  the  effects  of  science  upon 
him.  At  one  time  the  oyster  browsed  around 
and  ate  what  he  could  find  in  Neptune  s 
back-yard,  and  we  had  to  eat  him  as  we 
found  him.  Now  we  take  a  herd  of  oysters 
off  the  trail,  all  run  down,  and  feed  them  ar 
tificially  till  they  swell  up  to  a  fancy  size,  and 
bring  a  fancy  price.  Where  will  this  all  lead 
at  last,  I  ask  as  a  careful  scientist?  Instead 
of  eating  apples,  as  Adam  did,  we  work  the 
fruit  up  into  apple-jack  and  pie,  while  even 
the  simple  oyster  is  perverted,  and  instead  of 
being  allowed  to  fatten  up  in  the  fall  on 
acorns  and  ancient  mariners,  spurious  flesh  is 
put  on  his  bones  by  the  artificial  osmose  and 
dialysis  of  our  advanced  civilization.  How 
can  you  make  an  oyster  stout  or  train  him 
down  by  making  him  jerk  a  health  lift  so  many 
hours  every  day,  or  cultivate  his  body  at  the 
expense  of  his  mind,  without  ultimately  not 
only  impairing  the  future  usefulness  of  the 
oyster  himself,  but  at  the  same  time  affecting 
the  future  of  the  human  race  who  feed  upon 
him? 

I  only  use  the  oyster  as  an  illustration,  and 
10  145 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

I  do  not  wish  to  cause  alarm,  but  I  say  that 
if  we  stimulate  the  oyster  artificially  and 
swell  him  up  by  scientific  means,  we  not  only 
do  so  at  the  expense  of  his  better  nature  and 
keep  him  away  from  his  family,  but  we  are 
making  our  mark  on  the  future  race  of  men. 
Oyster-fattening  is  now,  of  course,  in  its  in 
fancy.  Only  a  few  years  ago  an  effort  was 
made  at  St.  Louis  to  fatten  cove  oysters  while 
in  the  can,  but  the  system  was  not  well  under 
stood,  and  those  who  had  it  in  charge  only  suc 
ceeded  in  making  the  can  itself  more  plump. 
But  now  oysters  are  kept  on  ground  feed  and 
given  nothing  to  do  for  a  few  weeks,  and 
even  the  older  and  overworked  sway-backed 
and  rickety  oysters  of  the  dim  and  murky 
past  are  made  to  fill  out,  and  many  of  them 
have  to  put  a  gore  in  the  waistband  of  their 
shells.  I  only  speak  of  the  oyster  incident 
ally,  as  one  of  the  objects  toward  which  science 
has  turned  its  attention,  and  I  assert  with  the 
utmost  confidence  that  the  time  will  come, 
unless  science  should  get  a  set-back,  when 
the  present  hunting-case  oyster  will  give 
place  to  the  open-face  oyster,  grafted  on  the 
146 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

octopus  and  big  enough  to  feed  a  hotel. 
Further  than  that,  the  oyster  of  the  future 
will  carry  in  a  hip-pocket  a  flask  of  vinegar, 
half  a  dozen  lemons  and  two  little  Japanese 
bottles,  one  of  which  will  contain  salt  and 
the  other  pepper,  and  there  will  be  some  way 
provided  by  which  you  can  tell  which  is 
which.  But  are  we  improving  the  oyster 
now?  That  is  a  question  we  may  well  ask 
ourselves.  Is  this  a  healthy  fat  which  we  are 
putting  on  him,  or  is  it  bloat?  And  what 
will  be  the  result  in  the  home-life  of  the  oys 
ter?  We  take  him  from  all  domestic  influ 
ences  whatever  in  order  to  make  a  swell  of 
him  by  our  modern  methods,  but  do  we  im 
prove  his  condition  morally,  and  what  is  to 
be  the  great  final  result  on  man? 

The  reader  will  see  by  the  questions  I  ask 
that  I  am  a  true  scientist.  Give  me  an  over 
coat  pocket  full  of  lower-case  interrogation 
marks  and  a  medical  report  to  run  to,  and  I 
can  speak  on  the  matter  of  science  and  ad 
vancement  till  Reason  totters  on  her  throne. 

But  food  and  oysters  do  not  alone  affect 
the  great,  pregnant  future.  Our  race  is  be- 
147 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

ing  tampered  with  not  only  by  means  of  adul 
terations,  political  combinations  and  climatic 
changes,  but  even  our  methods  of  relaxation 
are  productive  of  peculiar  physical  conditions, 
malformations  and  some  more  things  of  the 
same  kind. 

Cigarette  smoking  produces  a  flabby  and 
endogenous  condition  of  the  optic  nerve,  and 
constant  listening  at  a  telephone,  always  with 
the  same  ear,  decreases  the  power  of  the  other 
ear  till  it  finally  just  stands  around  drawing 
its  salary,  but  actually  refusing  to  hear  any 
thing.  Carrying  an  eight-pound  cane  makes 
a  man  lopsided,  and  the  muscular  and  nerv 
ous  strain  that  is  necessary  to  retain  a  single 
eyeglass  in  place  and  keep  it  out  of  the  soup, 
year  after  year,  draws  the  mental  stimulus  that 
should  go  to  the  thinker  itself,  until  at  last 
the  mind  wanders  away  and  forgets  to  come 
back,  or  becomes  atrophied,  and  the  great 
mental  strain  incident  to  the  work  of  pound 
ing  sand  or  coming  in  when  it  rains  is  more 
than  it  is  equal  to. 

Playing  billiards,  accompanied  by  the  vi 
cious  habit  of  pounding  on  the  floor  with  the 
148 


Playing  billiards,  accompanied  by  the  vicious  habit  of 
pounding  on  the  floor  with  the  butt  of  the  cue  ever  and  anon, 
produces  at  last  optical  illusions  (Page  149) 


54 

THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

butt  of  the  cue  ever  and  anon,  produces  at 
last  optical  illusions,  phantasmagoria  and  vis 
ions  of  pink  spiders  with  navy-blue  abdomens. 
Base-ball  is  not  alone  highly  injurious  to  the 
umpire,  but  it  also  induces  crooked  fingers, 
bone  spavin  and  hives  among  habitual  play 
ers.  Jumping  the  rope  induces  heart  disease. 
Poker  is  unduly  sedentary  in  its  nature.  Bi 
cycling  is  highly  injurious,  especially  to  skit 
tish  horses.  Boating  induces  malaria.  Lawn 
tennis  can  not  be  played  in  the  house.  Arch 
ery  is  apt  to  be  injurious  to  those  who  stand 
around  and  watch  the  game,  and  pugilism  is  a 
relaxation  that  jars  heavily  on  some  natures. 
Foot-ball  produces  what  may  be  called  the 
endogenous  or  ingrowing  toenail,  stringhalt 
and  mania.  Copenhagen  induces  a  melan 
choly,  and  the  game  of  bean  bag  is  unduly 
exciting.  Horse  racing  is  too  brief  and  tran 
sitory  as  an  outdoor  game,  requiring  weeks 
and  months  for  preparation  and  lasting  only 
long  enough  for  a  quick  person  to  ejaculate 
"Scat!"  The  pitcher's  arm  is  a  new  disease, 
the  outgrowth  of  base-ball;  the  lawn-tennis 
elbow  is  another  result  of  a  popular  open-air 
149 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

amusement,  and  it  begins  to  look  as  though 
the  coming  American  would  hear  with  one 
overgrown  telephonic  ear,  while  the  other  will 
be  rudimentary  only.  He  will  have  an  ab 
normal  base-ball  arm  with  a  lawn-tennis  el 
bow,  a  powerful  foot-ball-kicking  leg  with  the 
superior  toe  driven  back  into  the  palm  of  his 
foot.  He  will  have  a  highly  trained  biceps 
muscle  over  his  eye  to  retain  his  glass,  and 
that  eye  will  be  trained  to  shoot  a  curved 
glance  over  a  high  hat  and  witness  anything 
on  the  stage. 

Other  features  grow  abnormal,  or  shrink  up 
from  the  lack  of  use,  as  a  result  of  our  cus 
toms.  For  instance,  the  man  whose  business 
it  is  to  get  along  a  crowded  street  with  the 
utmost  speed  will  have,  finally,  a  hard,  sharp 
horn  growing  on  each  elbow,  and  a  pair  of 
spurs  growing  out  of  each  ankle.  These  will 
enable  him  to  climb  over  a  crowd  and  get 
there  early.  Constant  exposure  to  these 
weapons  on  the  part  of  the  pedestrian  will 
harden  the  walls  of  the  thorax  and  abdomen 
until  the  coming  man  will  be  an  impervious 
man.  The  citizen  who  avails  himself  of  all 
150 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

modern  methods  of  conveyance  will  ride  from 
his  door  on  the  horse  car  to  the  elevated  sta 
tion,  where  an  elevator  will  elevate  him  to 
the  train  and  a  revolving  platform  will  swing 
him  on  board,  or  possibly  the  street  car  will 
be  lifted  from  the  surface  track  to  the  elevated 
track,  and  the  passenger  will  retain  his  seat 
all  the  time.  Then  a  man  will  simply  hang 
out  a  red  card,  like  an  express  card,  at  his 
door,  and  a  combination  car  will  call  for  him, 
take  him  to  the  nearest  elevated  station,  ele 
vate  him,  car  and  all,  to  the  track,  take  him 
where  he  wants  to  go,  and  call  for  him  at  any 
hour  of  the  night  to  bring  him  home.  He 
will  do  his  exercising  at  home,  chiefly  taking 
artificial  sea  baths,  jerking  a  rowing  machine 
or  playing  on  a  health  lift  till  his  eyes  hang 
out  on  his  cheeks,  and  he  need  not  do  any 
walking  whatever.  In  that  way  the  coming 
man  will  be  over-developed  above  the  legs, 
and  his  lower  limbs  will  look  like  the  desolate 
stems  of  a  frozen  geranium.  Eccentricities 
of  limb  will  be  handed  over  like  baldness 
from  father  to  son  among  the  dwellers  in  the 
cities,  where  every  advantage  in  the  way  of 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

rapid  transit  is  to  be  had,  until  a  metropoli 
tan  will  be  instantly  picked  out  by  his  able 
digestion  and  rudimentary  legs,  just  as  we 
now  detect  the  gentleman  from  the  interior 
by  his  wild  endeavors  to  overtake  an  elevated 
train. 

In  fact,  Mr.  Edison  has  now  perfected,  or 
announced  that  he  is  on  the  road  to  the  per 
fection  of,  a  machine  which  I  may  be  par 
doned  for  calling  a  storage  think-tank.  This 
will  enable  a  brainy  man  to  sit  at  home,  and, 
with  an  electric  motor  and  a  perfected  phono 
graph,  he  can  think  into  a  tin  dipper  or  fun 
nel,  which  will,  by  the  aid  of  electricity  and 
a  new  style  of  foil,  record  and  preserve  his 
ideas  on  a  sheet  of  soft  metal,  so  that  when 
any  one  says  to  him,  "A  penny  for  your 
thoughts,"  he  can  go  to  his  valise  and  give 
him  a  piece  of  his  mind.  Thus  the  man 
who  has  such  wild  and  beautiful  thoughts  in 
the  night  and  never  can  hold  on  to  them  long 
enough  to  turn  on  the  gas  and  get  his  writ 
ing  materials,  can  set  this  thing  by  the  head 
of  his  bed,  and,  when  the  poetic  thought 
comes  to  him  in  the  stilly  night,  he  can  think 
152 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

into  a  hopper,  and  the  genius  of  Franklin 
and  Edison  together  will  enable  him  to  fire  it 
back  at  his  friends  in  the  morning  while  they 
cat  their  pancakes  and  glucose  syrup  from 
Vermont,  or  he  can  mail  the  sheet  of  tinfoil 
to  absent  friends,  who  may  put  it  into  their 
phonographs  and  utilize  it.  In  this  way  the 
world  may  harness  the  gray  matter  of  its  best 
men,  and  it  will  be  no  uncommon  thing  to  see 
a  dozen  brainy  men  tied  up  in  a  row  in  the 
back  office  of  an  intellectual  syndicate,  drop 
ping  pregnant  thoughts  into  little  electric 
coffee  mills  for  a  couple  of  hours  a  day,  after 
which  they  can  put  on  their  coats,  draw  their 
pay,  and  go  home. 

All  this  will  reduce  the  quantity  of  exer 
cise,  both  mental  and  physical.  Two  men 
with  good  brains  could  do  the  thinking  for 
60,000,000  of  people  and  feel  perfectly  fresh 
and  rested  the  next  day.  Take  four  men, 
we  will  say,  two  to  do  the  day  thinking  and 
two  more  to  go  on  deck  at  night,  and  see 
how  much  time  the  rest  of  the  world  would 
have  to  go  fishing.  See  how  politics  would 
become  simplified.  Conventions,  primaries, 
153 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

bargains  and  sales,  campaign  bitterness  and  vi 
tuperation — all  might  be  wiped  out.  A  pair 
of  political  thinkers  could  furnish  100,000,000 
of  people  with  logical  conclusions  enough  to 
last  them  through  the  campaign  and  put  an 
unbiased  opinion  into  a  man's  house  each  day 
for  less  than  he  now  pays  for  gas.  Just  before 
election  you  could  go  into  your  private  office, 
throw  in  a  large  dose  of  campaign  whisky, 
light  a  campaign  cigar,  fasten  your  button 
hole  to  the  wall  by  an  elastic  band,  so  that 
there  would  be  a  gentle  pull  on  it,  and  turn 
the  electricity  on  your  mechanical  thought 
supply.  It  would  save  time  and  money,  and 
the  result  would  be  the  same  as  it  is  now. 
This  would  only  be  the  beginning,  of  course, 
and  after  a  while  every  qualified  voter  who 
did  not  feel  like  exerting  himself  so  much,  need 
only  give  his  name  and  proxy  to  the  salaried 
thinker  employed  by  the  National  Think  Re 
tort  and  Supply  Works.  We  talk  a  great 
deal  about  the  union  of  church  and  state,  but 
that  is  not  so  dangerous,  after  all,  as  the  mixt 
ure  of  politics  and  independent  thought. 
Will  the  coming  voter  be  an  automatic,  leg- 

154 


THE  DUBIOUS  FUTURE. 

less,  hairless  mollusk  with  an  abnormal  ear 
constantly  glued  to  the  tube  of  a  big  tank 
full  of  symmetrical  ideas  furnished  by  a  na 
tional  bureau  of  brains  in  the  employ  of  the 
party  in  power? 


155 


EARNING  A  REWARD 

XVI 

r"pHOSE  were  troublous  times  indeed.  All- 
1  wool  justice  in  the  courts  was  impossible. 
The  vigilance  committee,  or  Salvation  army, 
as  it  called  itself,  didn't  make  much  fuss 
about  its  work,  but  we  all  knew  that  the  best 
citizens  belonged  to  it,  and  were  in  good 
standing. 

It  was  in  those  days  that  young  Stewart 
was  short-handed  for  a  sheep-herder,  and  had 
to  take  up  with  a  sullen,  hairy  vagrant  called 
by  the  other  boys,  ''Esau."  Esau  hadn't 
been  on  the  ranch  a  week  before  he  made 
trouble  with  the  proprietor  and  got  from 
Stewart  the  red-hot  blessing  he  deserved. 

Then  Esau  got  madder  and  skulked  away 
down  the  valley  among  the  little  sage  brush 
hummocks  and  white  alkali  wasteland,  to 


EARNING  A  REWARD. 

nurse  his  wrath.  When  Stewart  drove  into 
the  corral  that  night,  Esau  rose  up  from  be 
hind  an  old  sheep  dip-tank,  and  without  a 
word  except  what  may  have  growled  around 
in  his  black  heart,  he  leveled  a  Spencer  rifle 
and  shot  his  young  employer  dead. 

That  was  the  tragedy  of  that  week  only. 
Others  had  occurred  oeioic  cuiJ  others  would 
probably  occur  again.  Tragedy  was  getting 
too  prevalent  for  comfort.  So  as  soon  as  a 
quick  cayuse  and  a  boy  could  get  down  into 
town,  the  news  spread  and  the  authorities  be 
gan  in  the  routine  manner  to  set  the  old  legal 
mill  to  running.  Some  one  had  to  go  down 
to  "The  Tivoli"  and  find  the  prosecuting  at 
torney,  then  a  messenger  had  to  go  to  "The 
Alhambra"  for  the  justice  of  the  peace.  The 
prosecuting  attorney  was  "full,"  and  the  judge 
had  just  drawn  one  card  to  complete  a 
straight  flush,  and  had  succeeded. 

So  it  took  time  to  get  square-toed  justice 
ready  and  arm  the  sheriff  with  the  proper 
documents. 

In  the  meantime  the  Salvation  army  was 


157 


EARNING  A  REWARD. 

fully  half  way  to  Clugston's  ranch.  They  had 
started  out,  as  they  said,  "to  see  that  Esau 
didn't  get  away."  They  were  also  going  to 
see  that  Esau  was  brought  into  town. 

What  happened  after  they  got  out  there  I 
only  know  from  hearsay,  for  I  was  not  a 
member  of  the  Salvation  army  at  that  time. 
But  I  learned  from  one  of  those  present,  that 
they  found  Esau  down  in  the  sage  brush  on 
the  bottoms  that  lie  between  the  abrupt  cor 
ner  of  Sheep  mountain  and  the  Little  Laramie 
river.  They  captured  him  but  he  died  soon 
after,  as  it  was  told  me,  from  the  effects  of 
opium  taken  with  suicidal  intent.  I  remem 
ber  seeing  Esau  the  next  morning,  and  I 
thought  I  noticed  signs  of  ropium,  as  there 
was  a  purple  streak  around  the  neck  of  the 
deceased,  together  with  other  external  phe 
nomena  not  peculiar  to  opium. 

But  the  grand  difficulty  with  the  Salvation 
army  was  that  it  didn't  want  to  bring  Esau 
into  town.  A  long,  cold  night  ride  with  a 
person  in  Esau's  condition  was  disagreeable. 
Twenty  miles  of  lonely  road  with  a  deceased 


158 


Mr.  Whatley  hadn't  gone  more  than  half  a  mile  when  he 
heard  the  wild  and  disappointed  yells  of  the  Salvation  army 
.Page  159) 


EARNING  A  REWARD. 

murderer  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  is  de 
pressing.  Those  of  my  readers  who  have 
tried  it  will  agree  with  me  that  it  is  not 
calculated  to  promote  hilarity. 

So  the  Salvation  army  stopped  at  What- 
ley's  ranch  to  get  warm,  hoping  that  some 
one  would  steal  the  remains  and  elope  with 
them.  They  stayed  some  time  and  managed 
to  "give  away"  the  fact  that  there  was  a  re 
ward  of  $5,000  out  for  Esau,  dead  or  alive. 
The  Salvation  army  even  went  so  far  as  to  be 
tray  a  good  deal  of  hilarity  over  the  easy  way 
it  had  nailed  the  reward  or  would  as  soon  as 
said  remains  were  delivered  up  and  identified. 

Mr .  Whatley  thought  that  the  Salvation  army 
was  having  a  kind  of  walk  away,  so  he  slipped 
out  at  the  back  door  of  the  ranch,  put  Esau 
into  his  own  wagon  and  drove  off  to  town. 
Remember,  this  is  the  way  it  was  told  to 
me. 

Mr.  Whatley  hadn't  gone  more  than  half  a 
mile  when  he  heard  the  wild  and  disappointed 
yells  of  the  Salvation  army.  He  put  the 
buckskin  on  the  back  of  his  horse  without 


159 


EARNING  A  REWARD. 

mercy,  urged  on  by  the  enraged  shouts  and 
yells  of  his  infuriated  pursuers.  He  reached 
town  about  midnight,  and  his  pursuers  dis 
appeared.  But  what  was  he  to  do  with  Esau? 

He  drove  around  all  over  town  trying  to 
find  the  official  who  sighed  for  the  deceased. 
He  went  from  house  to  house  like  a  vege 
table  vender,  seeking  sadly  for  the  party 
who  would  give  him  a  $5,000  check  for  Esau. 
Nothing  could  be  more  depressing  than  to 
wake  up  one  man  after  another  out  of  a  sound 
sleep,  and  invite  him  to  come  out  to  the  buggy 
and  identify  the  remains.  One  man  went  out 
and  looked  at  him.  He  said  he  didn't  know 
how  others  felt  about  it,  but  he  allowed  that 
anybody  who  would  pay  $5,000  for  such  a 
remains  as  Esau's  could  not  have  very  good 
taste. 

Gradually  it  crept  through  Mr.  Whatley's 
wool  that  the  Salvation  army  had  been  work 
ing  him,  so  he  left  Esau  at  the  engine  house 
and  went  home.  On  his  ranch  he  nailed  up 
a  large  board,  on  which  had  been  painted  in 


1 60 


EARNING  A  REWARD. 

antique  characters,  with  a  paddle  and  tar,  the 
following: 


Vigilance  Committees,  Salvation 
Armies,  Morgues,  or  young  physicians 
who  may  have  deceased  people  on  their 
hands,  are  requested  to  refrain  from  con 
ferring  them  on  to  the  undersigned. 

j^if"  People  who  contemplate  shuffling 
off  their  own  or  other  people's  mortal 
coils  will  please  not  do  so  on  these  grounds. 

^if"  The  Salvation  Army  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  is  especially  hereby  warned  to 
keep  off  the  Grass!  JAMES  WHATLB-Y. 


II  161 


A  PLEA  FOR  JUSTICE 

XVII 

To  the  Honorable  Mayor  of  New  Tork: 

SIR — I  suppose  you  are  mayor  of  this 
whole  town,  and  if  so  you  are  the  mayor  of  the 
hosspitals  as  well  as  of  the  municipality  of 
New  York.  I  am  a  citizen  of  this  place  that 
has  always  been  square  towards  every  man 
and  paid  my  bills  as  they  accrewed.  I  now 
ask  you,  in  return  for  same,  to  intervene  and 
protect  me  in  my  rights.  The  millishy  has 
never  been  called  out  to  suppress  me.  I 
have  never  been  guilty  of  rebellyun  or  open 
difyance  off  the  law,  and  yet  I  am  unable  to 
get  a  square  deal  and  I  write  this  brief  note 
and  enclose  a  two-cent  stamp,  to  ascertain 
whether,  as  mayor,  you  are  for  me  or  agin 
me. 

Three  years  ago  I  entered  your  town  from 
a  westerly  direction.  I  done  so  quietly  and 
102 


.  I  was  in  a  large,  cool  hosspital  which  smelt 
strong  of  some  forrin  substans.  The  hed  doctor  had  been 
breathing  on  me  and  so  I  come  too  (Page  163) 


A  PLEA  FOR  JUSTICE. 

I  presume  that  few  will  remember  the  sir- 
cumstans,  yet  such  was  so.  I  had  not  been 
here  two  weeks  when  I  was  run  into,  knocked 
over  and  tromped  onto  by  the  bay  team  of  a 
purse-proud  producer  of  beer.  I  was  dashed 
to  earth  and  knocked  galley  west  on  Broad 
way  st.  looking  north  by  sed  horses  and  I 
was  wrecked  while  peasably  on  my  way  to  my 
place  of  business.  When  I  come  to  myself  I 
was  in  a  large,  cool  hosspital  which  smelt 
strong  of  some  forrin  substans.  The  hed  doc 
tor  had  been  breathing  on  me  and  so  I  come 
too.  When  I  looked  around  me  I  decided  to 
murmur  "Where  am  I  at?"  which  I  did. 

I  soon  learned  that  I  was  in  a  hosspital,  and 
that  kind  friends  had  removed  one  of  my 
legs.  I  will  not  take  up  your  time,  sir,  by 
touching  on  my  sufferings.  Suphice  it  to 
say  that  I  went  foarth  at  last  a  blasted  man, 
with  a  cork  leg  that  don't  look  no  more  like 
my  own  once  leg  which  I  was  torn  away  from, 
in  spite  of  the  Old  Harry.  It  is  too  late  to 
repine  over  a  wooden  leg,  unless  it  is  a  pine 
leg,  but  I  come  to  you,  sir,  to  interfear  on 
behalf  of  another  matter  which  I  will  now 

163 


A  PLEA  FOR  JUSTICE. 

aprooch.  Sorrows  at  that  time  come  on  me 
thick  and  fast.  During  that  fall  I  lost  my 
wife  and  two  dogs  by  deth.  This  was  the 
third  wife  I  have  been  called  on  to  bury.  It 
has  been  my  blessed  privilidge  to  mourn  the 
loss  of  three  as  good  wives  as  I  ever  shook  a 
stick  at.  I  have  got  them  all  in  one  cool, 
roomy  toom,  with  a  verse  on  the  door  of 
same  and  their  address,  so  that  they  will  not 
delay  the  resurrection.  Under  the  verse  that 
was  engraved  on  the  slab,  some  low  cuss  has 
wrote  three  verses  of  poetry  with  a  chorus  to 
each  verse  which  winds  up  with  the  words : 

Tit,  tat,  toe,  three  in  a  row. 

But  all  this  is  only  introductory.  Sir,  it 
has  long  been  my  heart's  desire  that  all  my 
beloved  dead  should  repose  together.  I  have 
a  large  lot  in  the  semmetery,  and  last  week  a. 
movement  was  placed  on  foot  to  inter  my 
late  leg  by  the  sides  of  my  deceased  wives. 
I  applied  to  the  hosspital  for  said  leg,  having 
got  a  permit  to  bury  same.  I  was  pleasant 
and  corechus  to  the  authoritis  there,  saying 
that  my  name  was  Gray  and  I  was  there  to 
164 


A  PLEA  FOR  JUSTICE. 

procure  my  leg,  whereupon  a  young  meddi- 
cle  cuss  said  to  the  head  ampitater : 

"Here's  de  man  that  wants  to  plant  Gray's 
1-e-g  in  a  churchyard." 

He  then  laughed  a  hoarse  laugh  and  went 
on  preserving  a  polapus  in  a  big  glass  fruit  can 
with  alkohall  in  it.  Wherever  I  went  I  met 
with  a  general  disposition  to  fool  with  a 
stricken  and  one-legged  man.  I  went  from 
ward  to  ward,  looking  at  suffering  and  smell 
ing  kloryform  till  I  was  sick  at  heart.  I  was 
referred  from  Dan  to  Beersheby,  from  the 
janiter  up  to  the  chief  tongue  inspector,  and 
one  place  where  I  went  into  they  seemed 
to  be  picking  bone  splinters  out  from  among 
a  gentleman's  brains.  I  made  bold  to  tell 
my  business,  but  with  small  hopes. 

"This  is  the  man  I  told  you  about,  Doc," 
said  a  young  man  who  was  filing  and  setting 
a  small  bone  handsaw.  "This  is  that  matter 
of  Gray,  the  man  who  wants  his  leg." 

"Damn  your  Gray  matter,"  says  this  doc 
tor,  whereupon  the  rest  bust  into  ribald  mirth. 

I  was  insulted  right  and  left  for  a  whole 
forenoon,  and  came  away  shocked  and  pained. 
.65 


A  PLEA  FOR  JUSTICE. 

Will  you  assist  me?  There  is  no  reverence 
among  doctors  any  more  and  they  have  none 
of  the  finer  feelings.  Some  asked  me  if  I  had 
a  check  for  my  leg.  Some  said  they  thought 
it  had  escaped  from  the  hosspital  and  gone  on 
the  stage,  and  one  feller  said  that  this  hoss 
pital  would  not  be  responsible  for  the  legs  of 
guests  unless  deposited  in  the  office  safe.  I 
like  fun  just  as  well  as  anybody,  Mr.  Mayor, 
but  I  don't  think  any  one  should  be  youmer- 
ous  over  the  cold  dead  features  of  a  leg  from 
which  I  have  been  ruthlessly  snatched. 

I  now  beg,  sir,  to  dror  this  hasty  letter  to 
an  untimely  end,  hoping  that  you  will  make 
it  hot  for  this  blooming  hosspital  and  make 
them  fork  over  said  leg.  Yours,  with  kind 
est  regards,  A.  PlTTSFIELD  GRAY. 


1 66 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH 

XVIII 

A  YOUNG  friend  has  written  to  me  as 
follows:  "Could  you  tell  me  some 
thing  of  the  location  of  the  porcelain  works  in 
Sevres,  France,  and  what  the  process  is  of 
making  those  beautiful  things  which  come 
from  there?  How  is  the  name  of  the  town 
pronounced?  Can  you  tell  me  anything  of  the 
history  of  Mme.  Pompadour?  Who  was  the 
Dauphin?  Did  you  learn  anything  of  Louis 
XV  whilst  in  France?  What  are  your  literary 
habits?" 

It  is  with  a  great,  bounding  joy  that  I 
impart  the  desired  information.  Sevres  is  a 
small  village  just  outside  of  St.  Cloud  (pro 
nounced  San  Cloo).  It  is  given  up  to  the 
manufacture  of  porcelain.  You  go  to  St. 
Cloud  by  rail  or  river,  and  then  drive  over  to 
Sevres  by  diligence  or  voiture.  Some  go 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

one  way  and  some  go  the  other.  I  rode  up 
on  the  Seine,  aboard  of  a  little,  noiseless, 
low-pressure  steamer  about  the  size  of  a  sew 
ing  machine.  It  was  called  the  Silvoo  Play, 
I  think. 

The  fare  was  thirty  centimes — or,  say, 
three  cents.  After  paying  my  fare  and  find 
ing  that  I  still  had  money  left,  I  lunched  at 
St.  Cloud  in  the  open  air  at  a  trifling  ex 
pense.  I  then  took  a  bottle  of  milk  from  my 
pocket  and  quenched  my  thirst.  Traveling 
through  France,  one  finds  that  the  water  is 
especially  bad,  tasting  of  the  Dauphin  at 
times,  and  dangerous  in  the  extreme.  I  ad 
vise  those,  therefore,  who  wish  to  be  well 
whilst  doing  the  Continent,  to  carry,  espe 
cially  in  France,  as  I  did,  a  large,  thick-set 
bottle  of  milk,  or  kumiss,  with  which  to  take 
the  wire  edge  off  one's  whistle  whilst  being 
yanked  through  the  Louvre. 

St.  Cloud  is  seven  miles  west  of  the  center 
of  Paris  and  almost  ten  miles  by  rail  on  the 
road  to  Versailles — pronounced  Vairsi.  St. 
Cloud  belongs  to  the  Canton  of  Sevres  and 
the  arrondissement  of  Versailles.  An  arron- 
168 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

dissement  is  not  anything  reprehensible.  It 
is  all  right.  You,  yourself,  could  belong  to 
an  arrondissement  if  you  lived  in  France. 

St.  Cloud  is  on  the  beautiful  hill  slope, 
looking  down  the  valley  of  the  Seine,  with 
Paris  in  the  distance.  It  is  peaceful  and  quiet 
and  beautiful.  Everything  is  peaceful  in  Paris 
when  there  is  no  revolution  on  the  carpet. 
The  steam  cars  run  safely  and  do  not  make 
so  much  noise  as  ours  do.  The  steam  whistle 
does  not  have  such  a  hold  on  people  as  it 
does  here.  The  adjutant-general  at  the  depot 
blows  a  little  tin  bugle,  the  admiral  of  the 
train  returns  the  salute,  the  adjutant-genera! 
says  "Aliens!"  and  the  train  starts  off  like  a 
somewhat  leisurely  young  man  who  is  going 
to  the  depot  to  meet  his  wife's  mother. 

One  does  not  realize  what  a  Fourth  of  July 
racket  we  live  in  and  employ  in  our  business 
till  he  has  been  the  guest  of  a  monarchy  of 
Europe  between  whose  toes  the  timothy  and 
clover  have  sprung  up  to  a  great  height.  And 
yet  it  is  a  pleasing  change,  and  I  shall  be 
glad  when  we  as  a  republic  have  passed  the 
blow-hard  period,  laid  aside  the  ear-splitting 
169 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

steam  whistle,  settled  down  to  good,  perma 
nent  institutions,  and  taken  on  the  restful, 
sootheful,  Boston  air  which  comes  with  time 
and  the  quiet  self-congratulation  that  one  is 
born  in  a  Bible  land  and  with  Gospel  privi 
leges,  and  where  the  right  to  worship  in  a 
strictly  high-church  manner  is  open  to  all. 

The  Palace  of  St.  Cloud  was  once  the  resi 
dence  of  Napoleon  I  in  summer-time.  He 
used  to  go  out  there  for  the  heated  term,  and 
folding  his  arms  across  his  stomach,  have 
thought  after  thought  regarding  the  future  of 
France.  Yet  he  very  likely  never  had  an 
idea  that  some  day  it  would  be  a  thrifty  re 
public,  engaged  in  growing  green  peas,  or 
pulling  a  soiled  dove  out  of  the  Seine,  now 
and  then,  to  add  to  the  attractions  of  her 
justly  celebrated  morgue. 

Louis  XVIII  also  put  up  at  the  Palace  in 
St.  Cloud  several  summers.  He  spelled  it 
"palais,"  which  shows  that  he  had  very  poor 
early  English  advantages,  or  that  he  was,  as 
I  have  always  suspected,  a  native  of  Quebec. 
Charles  X  also  changed  the  bedding  some 
what,  and  moved  in  during  his  reign.  He 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

also  added  a  new  iron  sink  and  a  place  in  the 
barn  for  washing  buggies.  Louis  Philippe 
spent  his  summers  here  for  a  number  of  years, 
and  wrote  weekly  letters  to  the  Paris  papers, 
signed  "Uno,"  in  which  he  urged  the  tax 
payers  to  show  more  veneration  for  their 
royal  nibs.  Napoleon  III  occupied  the  pal- 
ais  in  summer  during  his  lifetime,  availing 
himself  finally  of  the  use  of  Mr.  Bright's 
justly  celebrated  disease  and  dying  at  the 
dawn  of  better  institutions  for  beautiful  but 
unhappy  France. 

I  visited  the  palais  (pronounced  pallay), 
which  was  burned  by  the  Prussians  in  1870. 
The  grounds  occupy  960  acres,  which  I  of 
fered  to  buy  and  fit  up,  but  probably  I  did 
not  deal  with  responsible  parties.  This  part 
of  France  reminds  me  very  much  of  North 
Carolina.  I  mean,  of  course,  the  natural 
features.  Man  has  done  more  for  France,  it 
seems  to  me,  than  for  the  Tar  Heel  State, 
and  the  cities  of  Asheville  and  Paris  are 
widely  different.  The  police  of  Paris  rarely 
get  together  in  front  of  the  court-house  to 


171 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

pitch  horseshoes  or  dwell  on  the  outlook  fot 
the  goober  crop. 

And  yet  the  same  blue,  ozonic  sky,  if  I 
may  be  allowed  to  coin  a  word,  the  same 
soft,  restful,  dolce  frumenti  air  of  gentle, 
genial  health,  and  of  cark  destroying,  mag 
netic  balm  to  the  congested  soul,  the  in 
flamed  nerve  and  the  festering  brain,  are 
present  in  Asheville  that  one  finds  in  the 
quiet  drives  of  San  Cloo  with  the  successful 
squirt  of  the  mighty  fountains  of  Vairsi  and 
the  dark  and  whispering  forests  of  Fon-taine- 
bloo. 

The  palais  at  San  Cloo  presents  a  rather 
dejected  appearance  since  it  was  burned,  and 
the  scorched  walls  are  bare,  save  where  here 
and  there  a  warped  and  wilted  water  pipe  fes 
toons  the  blackened  and  blistered  wreck  of 
what  was  once  so  grand  and  so  gay. 

San  Cloo  has  a  normal  school  for  the  train 
ing  of  male  teachers  only.  I  visited  it,  but 
for  some  cause  I  did  not  make  a  hit  in  my 
address  to  the  pupils  until  I  began  to  speak 
in  their  own  national  tongue.  Then  the  clos 
est  attention  was  paid  to  what  I  said,  and  the 
172 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

keenest  delight  was  manifest  on  every  radiant 
face.  The  president,  who  spoke  some  En 
glish,  shook  hands  with  me  as  we  parted,  and 
I  asked  him  how  the  students  took  my  re 
marks.  He  said:  "'They  shall  all  the  time 
keep  the  thinkness — what  you  shall  call  the 
recollect — of  monsieur's  speech  in  preserves, 
so  that  they  shall  forget  it  not  continualle. 
We  shall  all  the  time  say  we  have  not  witness 
something  like  it  since  the  time  we  come 
here,  and  have  not  so  much  enjoy  ourselves 
since  the  grand  assassination  by  the  guillo 
tine.  Come  next  winter  and  be  with  us  for 
one  week.  Some  of  us  will  remain  in  the 
hall  each  time." 

At  San  Cloo  I  hired  of  a  quiet  young  fel 
low  about  thirty-five  years  of  age,  who  kept 
a  very  neat  livery  stable  there,  a  sort  of  vic 
toria  and  a  big  Percheron  horse,  with  fetlock 
whiskers  that  reminded  me  of  the  Sutherland 
sisters.  As  I  was  in  no  hurry  I  sat  on  an 
iron  settee  in  the  cool  court  of  the  livery 
stable,  and  with  my  arm  resting  on  the  shoul 
der  of  the  proprietor  I  spoke  of  the  crops  and 
asked  if  generally  people  about  there  re- 
173 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

garded  the  farmer  movement  as  in  any  way 
threatening  to  the  other  two  great  parties. 
He  did  not  seem  to  know,  and  so  I  watched 
the  coachman  who  was  to  drive  me,  as  he 
changed  his  clothes  in  order  to  give  me  my 
money's  worth  in  grandeur. 

One  thing  I  liked  about  France  was  that 
the  people  were  willing,  at  a  slight  advance 
on  the  regular  price,  to  treat  a  very  ordinary 
man  with  unusual  respect  and  esteem.  This 
surprised  and  delighted  me  beyond  measure, 
and  I  often  told  people  there  that  I  did  not 
begrudge  the  additional  expense.  The  coach 
man  was  also  hostler,  and  when  the  carriage 
was  ready  he  altered  his  attire  by  remov 
ing  a  coarse,  gray  shirt  or  tunic  and  putting 
on  a  long,  olive  green  coachman's  coat,  with 
erect  linen  collar  and  cuffs  sewed  into  the  col 
lar  and  sleeves.  He  wore  a  high  hat  that 
was  much  better  than  mine,  as  is  frequently 
the  case  with  coachmen  and  their  employers. 
My  coachman  now  gives  me  his  silk  hat  when 
he  gets  through  with  it  in  the  spring  and  fall, 
so  I  am  better  dressed  than  I  used  to  be. 

But  we  were  going  to  say  a  word  regard- 
174 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

ing  the  porcelain  works  at  Sevres.  It  is  a 
modern  building  and  is  under  government  con 
trol.  The  museum  is  filled  with  the  most 
beautiful  china  dishes  and  funny  business  that 
one  could  well  imagine.  Besides,  the  pot 
tery  ever  since  its  construction  has  retained  its 
models,  and  they,  of  course,  are  worthy  of  a 
day's  study.  The  "Sevres  blue"  is  said  to 
be  a  little  bit  bluer  than  anything  else  in  the 
known  world  except  the  man  who  starts  a 
nonpareil  paper  in  a  pica  town. 

I  was  careful  not  to  break  any  of  these 
vases  and  things,  and  thus  endeared  myself 
to  the  foreman  of  the  place.  All  employes 
are  uniformed  and  extremely  deferential  to 
recognized  ability.  Practically,  for  half  a 
day,  I  owned  the  place. 

A  cattle  friend  of  mine  who  was  looking  for 
a  dynasty  whose  tail  he  could  twist  while  in 
Europe,  and  who  used  often  to  say  over  our 
glass  of  vin  ordinaire  (which  I  have  since 
learned  is  not  the  best  brand  at  all),  that 
nothing  would  tickle  him  more  than  "to  have 
a  little  deal  with  a  crowned  head  and  get  him 
in  the  door,"  accidentally  broke  a  blue  crock 
175 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

out  there  at  Sevres  which  wouldn't  hold  over 
a  gallon,  and  it  took  the  best  part  of  a  car 
load  of  cows  to  pay  for  it,  he  told  me. 

The  process  of  making  the  Sevres  ware  is 
not  yet  published  in  book  form,  especially  the 
method  of  coloring  and  enameling.  It  is  a 
secret  possessed  by  duly  authorized  artists. 
The  name  of  the  town  is  pronounced  Save. 

Mme.  Pompadour  is  said  to  have  been  the 
natural  daughter  of  a  butcher,  which  I  regard 
as  being  more  to  her  own  credit  than  though 
she  had  been  an  artificial  one.  Her  name 
was  Jeanne  Antoinette  Poisson  Le  Normand 
d'Etioles,  Marchioness de  Pompadour,  and  her 
name  is  yet  used  by  the  authorities  of  Ver 
sailles  as  a  fire  escape,  so  I  am  told. 

She  was  the  mistress  of  Louis  XV,  who 
never  allowed  her  to  put  her  hands  in  dish 
water  during  the  entire  time  she  visited  at 
his  house.  D'Etioles  was  her  first  husband, 
but  she  left  him  for  a  gay  but  rather  repre 
hensible  life  at  court,  where  she  was  terribly 
talked  about,  though  she  is  said  not  to  have 
cared  a  cent. 

She  developed  into  a  marvelous  politician, 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

and  early  seeing  that  the  French  people  were 
largely  governed  by  the  literary  lights  of  that 
time,  she  began  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance 
of  the  magazine  writers,  and  tried  to  join  the 
Authors'  Club. 

She  then  became  prominent  by  originating 
a  method  of  doing  up  the  hair,  which  has 
since  grown  popular  among  people  whose 
hair  has  not,  like  my  own,  been  already 
"done  up." 

This  style  of  Mme.  Pompadour's  was  at 
once  popular  with  the  young  men  who  ran 
the  throttles  of  the  soda  fountains  of  that 
time,  and  is  still  well  spoken  of.  A  young 
friend  of  mine  trained  his  hair  up  from  his 
forehead  in  that  way  once  and  could  not  get 
it  down  again.  During  his  funeral  his  hair, 
which  had  been  glued  down  by  the  under 
taker,  became  surprised  at  something  said  by 
the  clergyman  and  pushed  out  the  end  of 
his  casket. 

The  king  tired  in  a  few  years  of  Mme.  Pom 
padour  and  wished  that  he  had  not  encour 
aged  her  to  run  away  from  her  husband.  She, 
however,  retained  her  hold  upon  the  blase 
12 


GRAINS  OF  TRUTH. 

and  alcoholic  monarch  by  her  wonderful  ver 
satility  and  genius. 

When  all  her  talents  as  an  artiste  and  poli 
tician  palled  upon  his  old  rum-soaked  and 
emaciated  brain,  and  ennui,  like  a  mighty 
canker,  ate  away  large  corners  of  his  moth- 
eaten  soul,  she  would  sit  in  the  gloaming  and 
sing  to  him,  "Hard  Times,  Hard  Times, 
Come  Again  No  More,"  meantime  accom 
panying  herself  on  the  harpsichord  or  the 
sackbut  or  whatever  they  played  in  those 
days.  Then  she  instituted  theatricals,  giv 
ing,  through  the  aid  of  the  nobility,  a  very 
good  version  of  "Peck's  Bad  Boy"  and 
"Lend  Me  Five  Centimes." 

She  finally  lost  her  influence  over  Looey 
the  XV,  and  as  he  got  to  be  an  old  man  the 
thought  suddenly  occurred  to  him  to  reform, 
and  so  he  had  Mme.  Pompadour  beheaded 
at  the  age  of  forty-two  years.  This  little  story 
should  teach  us  that  no  matter  how  gifted  we 
are,  or  how  high  we  may  wear  our  hair,  our 
ambitions  must  be  tempered  by  honor  and 
integrity;  also  that  pride  goeth  before  de 
struction  and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  plunk. 


A  SCAMPER  THROUGH  THE  PARK 

XIX 

LAST  week  Colonel  Bill  Root,  formerly 
Duke  of  Council  Bluffs,  paid  me  a  visit, 
and  as  I  desired  to  show  him  Central  Park,  I 
took  him  to  Fifty-Eighth  street  and  hired  a 
carriage,  my  own  team  being  at  my  country 
place.  I  also  engaged  the  services  of  a  dark- 
eyed  historical  student,  who  is  said  to  know 
more  about  Central  Park  than  any  other  man 
in  New  York,  having  driven  through  it,  as  he 
has,  for  years.  He  was  a  plain,  sad  man, 
with  a  mustache  which  was  mostly  whiskers. 
He  dressed  carelessly  in  a  neglige  suit  of 
neutral -tinted  clothes,  including  a  pair  of 
trousers  which  seemed  to  fit  him  in  that  shy 
and  reluctant  manner  which  characterized  the 
fit  of  the  late  lamented  Jumbo's  clothes  after 
he  had  been  indifferently  taxidermed. 

Colonel  Root  and  I  called  him  "Governor, ' ' 
179 


A  SCAMPER  THROUGH  THE  PARK. 

and  thereby  secured  knowledge  which  could 
not  be  obtained  from  books.  Colonel  Root 
is  himself  no  kindergarten  savant,  being  the 
author  and  discoverer  of  a  method  of  break 
ing  up  a  sitting-hen  by  first  calling  her  away 
from  her  deep-seated  passion,  tying  a  red- 
flannel  rag  around  her  leg,  and  then  still 
further  turning  her  attention  from  her  wild 
yearning  to  hatch  out  a  flock  of  suburban 
villas  by  sitting  on  a  white  front-door  knob. 
This  he  does  by  deftly  inserting  the  hen  into 
a  joint  of  stove-pipe  and  then  cementing  both 
ends  of  the  same.  Colonel  Root  is  also  the 
discoverer  of  a  cipher  which  shows  that  Julius 
Caesar's  dying  words  were:  "  Et  tu  Brute. 
Verily  the  tail  goeth  with  the  hide." 

After  a  while  the  driver  paused.  Colonel 
Root  asked  him  why  he  tarried. 

"  I  wanted  to  call  your  attention,"  said  the 
Governor,  "to  the  Casino,  a  place  where  you 
can  provide  for  the  inner  man  or  any  other 
man.  You  can  here  secure  soft-shell  crabs, 
boiled  lobster,  low-neck  clams,  Hamburger 
steaks,  chicken  salad,  miscellaneous  soups, 
lobster  salad  with  machine-oil  on  it,  Neapol- 
180 


Said  the  Governor  as  he  swung  around  ivith 
his  feet  over  in  our  part  of  the  carriage  and  asked  me  for  a 
light  (Page  181) 


A  SCAMPER  THROUGH  THE  PARK. 

itan  ice-cream,  Santa  Cruz  rum,  Cincinnati 
Sec,  pie,  tooth-picks,  and  finger-bowls." 

' '  How  far  does  the  waiter  have  to  go  to  get 
these  things  cooked  ?"  inquired  Colonel  Root, 
looking  at  his  valuable  watch. 

"That,"  said  the  Governor,  as  he  swung 
around  with  his  feet  over  in  our  part  of  the 
carriage  and  asked  me  for  a  light,  "depends 
on  how  you  approach  him.  If  you  slip  a 
half  dollar  up  his  coat-sleeve  without  his 
knowledge  he  will  get  your  twenty-five  cent 
meal  cooked  somewhere  near  by,  but  other 
wise  I  have  known  him  to  go  away  and  come 
back  with  gray  side-whiskers  and  cobwebs  on 
the  pie  instead  of  the  wine." 

We  went  in  and  told  the  proprietor  to  see 
that  our  driver  had  what  he  wanted.  He  did 
not  want  much,  aside  from  a  whisky  sour,  a 
plate  of  terrapin,  a  pint  of  Mr.  Pommery's 
secretary's  beverage,  and  a  baked  duck.  We 
had  a  little  calves'  liver  and  custard  pie. 
Then  we  visited  Cleopatra's  Needle. 

"And  who  in  creation  was  Cleopatra?" 
asked  Colonel  Root. 

' '  Cleopatra, ' '  said  the  driver,  '  'was  a  good- 
181 


A  SCAMPER  THROUGH  THE  PARK. 

looking  Queen  of  Egypt.  She  was  eighteen 
years  old  when  her  father  left  the  throne,  as 
it  was  screwed  down  to  the  dais,  and  died. 
He  left  the  kingdom  to  Cleopatra,  in  part 
nership  with  Ptolemy,  her  brother.  Ptolemy, 
in  51  B.  C.,  deprived  her  of  the  throne, 
leaving  Cleopatra  nothing  but  the  tidy.  She 
appealed  to  Julius  Caesar,  who  hired  a  man 
to  embalm  Ptolemy,  and  restored  Egypt  to 
his  sister,  who  was  as  likely  a  girl  as  Julius 
had  ever  met  with.  She  accompanied  him 
to  Rome  in  46  B.  C.,  and  remained  there  a 
couple  of  years.  When  Caesar  was  assassin 
ated  by  a  delegation  of  Roman  tax-payers 
who  desired  a  change,  Cleopatra  went  back 
and  began  to  reign  over  Egypt  again.  She 
also  attracted  the  attention  of  Antony.  He 
thought  so  much  of  her  that  he  would  fre 
quently  stay  away  from  a  battle  and  deny 
himself  the  joys  of  being  split  open  with  a 
dull  stab-knife  in  order  to  hang  around  home 
and  hold  Cleopatra's  hand,  and,  though  she 
was  a  widow  practically,  she  was  the  Amelie 
Rives  style  of  widow,  and  he  said  that  it  had 
to  be  an  all-fired  good  battle  that  could  make 
182 


A  SCAMPER  THROUGH  THE  PARK. 

him  put  on  his  iron  ulster  and  fight  all  day 
on  the  salary  he  was  getting.  She  pizened 
herself  thirty  years  before  Christ,  at  the  age 
of  thirty-nine  years,  rather  than  ride  around 
Rome  in  a  gingham  dress  as  a  captive  of 
Augustus.  She  died  right  in  haying  time, 
and  Augustus  said  he'd  ruther  of  lost  the 
best  horse  in  Rome.  This  is  her  needle.  It 
was  brought  to  New  York  mostly  by  water, 
and  looks  well  here  in  the  park.  She  was 
said  to  be  as  likely  a  queen  as  ever  jerked  a 
sceptre  over  Egypt  or  any  other  place .  Every 
body  that  saw  her  reign  said  that  the  country 
never  had  a  magneticker  queen." 

As  we  rode  swiftly  along,  the  slight,  girlish 
figure  of  a  middle-aged  woman  might  have 
been  seen  striving  hurriedly  to  cross  the  drive 
way.  She  screamed  and  beckoned  to  a  park 
policeman,  who  rushed  leisurely  in  and  caught 
her  by  the  arm,  rescuing  her  from  the  cruel 
feet  of  our  mad  chargers,  and  then  led  her  to 
a  seat.  As  we  paused  to  ask  the  policeman 
if  the  lady  had  been  injured,  he  came  up  to 
the  side  of  the  carriage  and  whispered  to  me 
behind  his  hand  :  ' '  That  woman  I  have  res- 

183 


A  SCAMPER  THROUGH  THE  PARK. 

cued  between  thirty  and  forty  times  this  year, 
and  it  is  only  the  first  of  July.  Every  pleas 
ant  day  she  comes  here  to  be  rescued.  One 
day,  when  business  was  a  little  dull  and  we 
didn't  have  any  teams  on  the  drive,  and  time 
seemed  to  hang  heavy  on  her  hands,  she  told 
me  her  sad  history.  Before  she  was  eighteen 
years  of  age  she  had  been  disappointed  in 
love  and  prevented  from  marrying  her  heart's 
choice,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  idea  of  the 
union  did  not  occur  to  him.  He  was  not,  in 
fact,  a  union  man.  Time  passed  on,  from 
time  to  time,  glad  spring,  and  bobolinks,  and 
light  underwear  succeeded  stern  winter,  frost, 
and  heavy  flannels,  and  yet  he  cometh  not, 
she  sayed.  No  one  had  ever  caught  her  in 
his  great  strong  arms  in  a  quick  embrace  that 
seemed  to  scrunch  her  whole  being.  Sum 
mer  came  and  went.  The  dews  on  the  up 
land  succeeded  the  frost  on  the  pumpkin. 
The  grand  ratification  of  the  partridge  ushered 
in  the  wail  of  the  turtle  dove  and  the  brief 
plunk  of  the  muskrat  in  the  gloaming.  And 
yet  no  man  had  ever  dast  to  come  right  out 
and  pay  attention  to  her  or  keep  company 
184 


A  SCAMPER  THROUGH  THE  PARK. 

with  her.  She  had  an  emotional  nature  that 
just  seemed  to  get  up  on  its  hind  feet  and 
pant  for  recognition  and  love.  She  could 
have  almost  loved  a  well-to-do  man  who  had, 
perhaps,  sinned  a  few  times,  but  even  the 
tough  and  erring  went  elsewhere  to  repent. 
One  day  she  came  to  town  to  do  some  trad 
ing.  She  had  priced  seven  dollars  and  fifty 
cents'  worth  of  goods,  and  was  just  crossing 
Broadway  to  price  some  more,  when  the  gay 
equipage  of  a  wealthy  humorist,  with  silver 
chains  on  the  neck-yoke  and  foam -flecks 
acrost  the  bosom  of  the  nigh  hoss,  came 
plunging  down  the  street. 

"The  red  nostrils  of  the  spirited  brutes 
were  above  her.  Their  hot  breath  scorched 
the  back  of  her  neck  and  swayed  the  red- 
flannel  pompon  on  her  bonnet.  Every  one 
on  Broadway  held  his  breath,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  a  man  on  the  front  stoop  of  the  Castor 
House,  whose  breath  had  got  beyond  his  con 
trol.  Every  one  was  horrified  and  turned 
away  with  a  shudder,  which  rattled  the  tele 
graph  wires  for  two  blocks. 

' '  Just  then  a  strong,  brave  policeman  rushed 

185 


A  SCAMPER  THROUGH  THE  PARK. 

in  and  knocked  down  both  horses  and  the 
driver,  together  with  his  salary.  He  caught 
the  woman  up  as  though  she  had  been  no 
more  than  a  feather's  weight.  He  bore  her 
away  to  the  post-office  pavement,  where  it  is 
still  the  custom  to  carry  people  who  are  run 
over  and  mangled.  He  then  sought  to  put 
her  down,  but,  like  a  bad  oyster,  she  would 
not  be  put  down.  She  still  clung  about  his 
neck,  like  the  old  party  who  got  acquainted 
with  Sinbad  the  Sailor,  though,  of  course,  in 
a  different  manner.  It  took  quite  a  while  to 
shake  her  off.  The  next  day  she  came  back 
and  was  almost  killed  at  the  same  crossing 

o 

It  went  on  that  way  until  the  policeman  had 
his  beat  changed  to  another  part  of  town. 
Finally,  she  came  up  here  to  get  her  summer 
rescuing  done.  I  do  it  when  it  falls  to  my 
lot,  but  my  heart  is  not  in  the  work.  Some 
times  the  horrible  thought  comes  over  me  that 
I  may  be  too  late.  Several  times  I  have  tried 
to  be  too  late,  but  I  haven't  the  heart  to  do  it. ' ' 
He  then  walked  to  a  sparrow  that  refused 
to  keep  off  the  grass  and  brained  it  with  his 
club. 

1 86 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER 
xx 

EVERY  thinkful  student  has  doubtless  no 
ticed  that  when  he  enters  the  office,  or 
autograph  department,  of  an  American  inn,  a 
lithe  and  alert  male  person  seizes  his  valise 
or  traveling-bag  with  much  earnestness.  He 
then  conveys  it  to  some  sequestered  spot  and 
does  not  again  return.  He  is  the  porter  of 
the  hotel  or  inn.  He  may  be  a  modest  por 
ter  just  starting  out,  or  he  may  be  a  swol 
len  and  purse-proud  porter  with  silver  in  his 
hair  and  also  in  his  pocket. 

I  speak  of  the  porter  and  his  humble  lot  in 
order  to  show  the  average  American  boy  who 
may  read  these  lines  that  humor  is  not  the 
only  thing  in  America  which  yields  large  divi 
dends  on  a  very  small  capital.  To  be  a  porter 
does  not  require  great  genius,  or  education, 
or  intellectual  versatility;  and  yet,  well  at- 

is/ 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

tended  to,  the  business  is  remunerative  in  the 
extreme  and  often  brings  excellent  returns. 
It  shows  that  any  American  boy  who  does 
faithfully  and  well  the  work  assigned  to  him 
may  become  well-to-do  and  prosperous. 

Recently  I  shook  hands  with  a  conductor 
on  the  Milwaukee  and  St.  Paul  Railroad,  who 
is  the  president  of  a  bank.  There  is  a  gen 
eral  impression  in  the  public  mind  that  con 
ductors  all  die  poor,  but  here  is  "Jerry,"  as 
everybody  calls  him,  a  man  of  forty-five  years 
of  age,  perhaps,  with  a  long  head  of  whisk 
ers  and  the  pleasant  position  of  president  of 
a  bank.  As  he  thoughtfully  slams  the  doors 
from  car  to  car,  collecting  fares  on  child 
ren  who  are  no  longer  young  and  whose- 
parents  seek  to  conceal  them  under  the  seats, 
or  as  he  goes  from  passenger  to  passenger 
sticking  large  blue  checks  in  their  new  silk 
hats,  and  otherwise  taking  advantage  of 
people,  he  is  sustained  and  soothed  by  the 
blessed  thought  that  he  has  done  the  best  he 
could,  and  that  some  day  when  the  summons 
comes  to  lay  aside  his  loud-smelling  lantern 
and  make  his  last  run,  he  will  leave  his  dear 
188 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

ones  provided  for.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  add 
that  during  all  these  years  of  Jerry's  prosper 
ity  the  road  has  also  managed  to  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door.  I  mention  it  because  it 
is  so  rare  for  the  conductor  and  the  road  to 
make  money  at  the  same  time. 

I  knew  a  conductor  on  the  Union  Pacific 
railroad,  some  years  ago,  who  used  to  make 
a  great  deal  of  money,  but  he  did  not  invest 
wisely,  and  so  to-day  is  not  the  president  of  a 
bank.  He  made  a  great  deal  of  money  in  one 
way  or  another  while  on  his  run,  but  the  man 
with  whom  he  was  wont  to  play  poker  in  the 
evening  is  now  the  president  of  the  bank. 
The  conductor  is  in  the  puree. 

It  was  in  Minneapolis  that  Mr.  Cleveland 
was  once  injudicious.  He  and  his  wife  were 
pained  to  read  the  following  report  of  their 
conversation  in  the  paper  on  the  day  after 
their  visit  to  the  flour  city : 

"Yes,  I  like  the  town  pretty  well,  but  the 
people,  some  of  'em,  are  too  blamed  fresh." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Grover?  I  thought 
they  were  very  nice,  indeed,  but  still  I  think 


189 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

I  like  St.  Paul  the  best.  It  is  so  old  and  re 
spectable." 

"Oh,  yes,  respectability  is  good  enough  in 
its  place,  but  it  can  be  overdone.  I  like 
Washington,  where  respectability  is  not  made 
a  hobby." 

"But  are  you  not  enjoying  yourself  here, 
honey?" 

"No,  I  am  not.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
am  very  unhappy.  I'm  so  scared  for  fear  I'll 
say  something  about  the  place  that  will  be 
used  against  me  by  the  St.  Paul  folks,  that  I 
most  wish  I  was  dead,  and  everybody  wants 
to  show  me  the  new  bridge  and  the  water 
works,  and  speak  of  'our  great  and  phenom 
enal  growth,'  and  show  me  the  population 
statistics,  and  the  school-house,  and  the 
Washburn  residence,  and  Doc  Ames  and  Ole 
Forgerson,  and  the  saw-mill,  and  the  boom, 
and  then  walk  me  up  into  the  thirteenth  story 
of  a  flour  mill  and  pour  corn  meal  down  my 
back,  and  show  me  the  wonderful  increase  of 
the  city  debt  and  the  sewerage,  and  the 
West  Hotel,  and  the  glorious  ozone  and  things 
here,  that  it  makes  me  tired.  And  I  have  to 
190 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

look  happy  and  shake  hands  and  say  it  knocks 
St.  Paul  silly,  while  I  don't  think  so  at  all, 
and  I  wish  I  could  do  something  besides  be 
president  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  quit  ly 
ing  almost  entirely,  except  when  I  go  a- 
fishing." 

"But  don't  you  think  the  people  here  are 
very  cordial,  dawling?" 

"Yes,  they're  too  cordial  for  me  altogether. 
Instead  of  talking  about  the  wonderful  hit  1 
have  made  as  a  president  and  calling  atten 
tion  to  my  remarkable  administration,  they 
talk  about  the  flour  output  and  the  electric 
plant  and  other  crops  here,  and  allude  feel 
ingly  to  'number  one  hard'  and  chintz  bugs 
and  other  flora  and  fauna  of  this  country, 
which,  to  be  honest  with  you,  I  do  not  and 
never  did  give  a  damn  for." 

"Grover!" 

"Well,  I  beg  your  pardon,  dear,  and  I 
oughtn't  to  speak  that  way  before  you,  but 
if  you  knew  how  much  better  I  feel  now 
you  would  not  speak  so  harshly  to  me.  It 
is  indeed  hard  to  be  ever  gay  and  joyous 
before  the  great  masses  who  as  a  general 
191 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

thing,  do  not  know  enough  to  pound  sand, 
but  who  are  still  vested  with  the  divine  right 
of  suffrage,  and  so  must  be  treated  gently, 
and  loved  and  smiled  at  till  it  makes  me 
ache." 

Mr.  Cleveland  was  greatly  annoyed  by  the 
publication  of  this  conversation,  and  could 
not  understand  it  until  this  fall,  when  a  Minne 
apolis  man  told  him  that  the  pale,  haughty 
coachman  who  drove  the  presidential  carriage 
was  a  reporter.  He  could  handle  a  team 
with  one  hand  and  remember  things  with  the 
other. 

And  so  I  say  that  as  a  president  we  can 
not  be  too  careful  what  we  say.  I  hope  that 
the  little  boys  and  girls  who  read  this,  and 
who  may  hereafter  become  presidents  or  wives 
of  presidents,  will  bear  this  in  mind,  and  al 
ways  have  a  kind  word  for  one  and  all,  whether 
they  feel  that  way  or  not. 

But  I  started  out  to  speak  of  porters  and 
not  reporters.  I  carry  with  me,  this  year, 
a  small,  sorrel  bag,  weighing  a  little  over 
twenty  ounces.  It  contains  a  slight  bottle  of 
horse  medicine  and  a  powder  rag.  Some- 
192 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

times  it  also  contains  a  costly  robe  de  nuit, 
when  I  do  not  forget  and  leave  said  robe  in 
a  sleeping  car  or  hotel.  I  am  not  over 
drawing  this  matter,  however,  when  I  say 
honestly  that  the  shrill  cry  of  fire  at  night  in 
most  any  hotel  in  the  United  States  would 
now  bring  to  the  fire-escape  from  one  to  six 
employes  of  said  hotel  wearing  these  costly 
vestments  with  my  brief  but  imperishable 
name  engraven  on  the  bosom. 

This  little  traveling  bag,  which  is  not  larger 
than  a  man's  hand,  is  rudely  pulled  out  of 
my  grasp  as  I  enter  an  inn,  and  it  has  cost 
me  $29  to  get  it  back  again  from  the  porter. 
Besides,  I  have  paid  $8.35  for  new  handles 
to  replace  those  that  have  been  torn  off  in 
frantic  scuffles  between  the  porter  and  myself 
to  see  which  would  get  away  with  it. 

Yesterday  I  was  talking  with  a  reformed 
lecturer  about  this  peculiarity  of  the  porters. 
He  said  he  used  to  lecture  a  great  deal  at 
moderate  prices  throughout  the  country,  and 
after  ten  years  of  earnest  toil  he  was  enabled 
to  retire  with  a  rich  experience  and  $9  in 
money.  He  lectured  on  phrenology  and  took 
13  193 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

his  meals  with  the  chairman  of  the  lecture 
committee.  In  Ouray,  Colorado,  the  bag 
gageman  allowed  his  trunk  to  fall  from  a 
great  height,  and  so  the  lid  was  knocked  off 
and  the  bust  which  the  professor  used  in  his 
lecture  was  busted.  He  therefore  had  to  bor 
row  a  bald-headed  man  to  act  as  bust  for  him 
in  the  evening.  After  the  close  of  the  lect 
ure  the  professor  found  that  the  bust  had 
stolen  the  gross  receipts  from  his  coat  tail 
pocket  while  he  was  lecturing.  The  only 
improbable  feature  about  this  story  is  the  im 
plication  that  a  bald-headed  man  would  com 
mit  a  crime. 

But  still  he  did  not  become  soured.  He 
pressed  on  and  lectured  to  the  gentle  janitors 
of  the  land  in  piercing  tones.  He  was  al 
ways  kind  to  every  one,  even  when  people 
criticised  his  lecture  and  went  away  before  he 
got  through.  He  forgave  them  and  paid  his 
bills  just  the  same  as  he  did  when  people 
liked  him. 

Once  a  newspaper  man  did  him  a  great 
wrong  by  saying  that  "the  lecture  was  de 
cayed,  and  that  the  professor  would  endear 
194 


He  therefore  had  to  borrow  a  bald-headed  man  to  act  as 
bust  for  him  in  the  evening    (Page  194) 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

himself  to  every  one  if  some  night  at  his 
hotel,  instead  of  blowing  out  the  gas  and 
turning  off  his  brains  as  he  usually  did,  he 
would  just  turn  off  the  gas  and  blow  out  his 
brains."  But  the  professor  did  not  go  to  the 
newspaper  man's  office  and  shoot  holes  in  his 
person.  He  spoke  kindly  to  him  always, 
and  once  when  the  two  met  in  a  barber  shop, 
and  it  was  doubtful  which  was  "next,"  as 
they  came  in  from  opposite  ends  of  the  room, 
the  professor  gently  yielded  the  chair  to  the 
man  who  had  done  him  the  great  wrong,  and 
while  the  barber  was  shaving  him  eleven  tons 
of  ceiling  peeled  off  and  fell  on  the  editor 
who  had  been  so  cruel  and  so  rude,  and  when 
they  gathered  up  the  debris,  a  day  or  two 
afterward,  it  was  almost  impossible  to  tell 
which  was  ceiling  and  which  was  remains. 

So  it  is  always  best  to  deal  gently  with  the 
erring,  especially  if  you  think  it  will  be  fatal 
to  them. 

The  reformed  lecturer  also  spoke  of  a  dis 
covery  he  made,  which  I  had  never  heard 
of  before.  He  began,  during  the  closing 
years  of  his  tour,  to  notice  mysterious  marks 
195 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

on  his  trunk,  made  with  chalk  generally,  and 
so,  during  his  leisure  hours,  he  investigated 
them  and  their  cause  and  effect.  He  found 
that  they  were  the  symbols  of  the  Independ 
ent  Order  of  Porters  and  Baggage  Bursters. 
He  discovered  that  it  was  a  species  of  lan 
guage  by  which  one  porter  informed  the  next, 
without  the  expense  of  telegraphing,  what 
style  of  man  owned  the  trunk  and  the  pros 
pects  for  "touching"  him,  as  one  might  say. 
The  professor  gave  me  a  few  of  these  signs 
from  an  old  note-book,  together  with  his  own 
interpretation  after  years  of  close  study.  I 
reproduce  them  here,  because  I  know  they 
will  interest  the  reader  as  they  did  me. 


This   trunk,    if    handled    gently   and    then 
carefully  unstrapped  in  the  owner's  room,  so 
as  to  open  comfortably  without  bursting  the 
196 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

wall   or   giving  the   owner   vertigo,    is   good 
for  a  quarter. 


This  man  is  a  good,  kind-hearted  man  gen 
erally,  but  will  sometimes  escape.  Better 
not  let  him  have  his  hand  baggage  till  he  puts 
up. 


This  trunk  belongs  to  a  woman  who  may 
possibly  thank  you  if  you  handle  the  baggage 
gently  and  will  weep  if  you  knock  the  lid  off. 
197 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

Kind  words  can  never  die.    (N.  B.    Nyether 
can  they  procure  groceries.) 


This  trunk  belongs  to  a  traveling  man  who 
weighs  2ii  pounds.  If  you  have  no  respect 
for  the  blamed  old  fire-proof  safe  itself,  please 
respect  it  for  its  gentle  owner's  sake.  He  can 
not  bear  to  have  his  trunk  harshly  treated,  and 
he  might  so  far  forget  himself  as  to  kill  you.  It 
is  better  to  be  alive  and  poor  than  it  is  to  be 
wealthy  and  dead.  It  is  better  to  do  a  kind 
act  for  a  fellow-being  than  it  is  to  leave  a  de 
sirable  widow  for  some  one  else  to  marry. 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

If  you  will  knock  the  top  off  this  trunk  you 
will  discover  the  clothing  of  a  mean  man.  In 
case  you  can  not  knock  the  lid  entirely  off, 
burst  it  open  a  little  so  that  the  great,  rest 
less,  seething  traveling  public  can  see  how 
many  hotel  napkins  and  towels  and  cakes  of 
soap  he  has  stolen. 


This  is  the  trunk  of  a  young  girl,  and  con 
tains  the  poor  but  honest  garb  she  wore  when 
she  ran  away  from  home.  Also  the  gay 
clothes  she  bought  after  a  wicked  ambition 
had  poisoned  her  simple  heart.  They  are 
the  gaudy  garments  and  flashy  trappings  for 
which  she  exchanged  her  honest  laugh  and 
her  bright  and  beautiful  youth.  Handle 
gently  the  "poor  little  trunk,  as  you  would 
199 


HINTS  TO  THE  TRAVELER. 

touch  her  sad  little  history,  for  her  father  is 
in  the  second-class  coach,  weeping  softly  into 
his  coarse  red  handkerchief,  and  she,  herself, 
is  going  home  on  the  same  train  in  her 
cheap  little  coffin  in  the  baggage  car  to  meet 
her  sorrowing  mother,  who  will  go  up  into 
the  garret  many  rainy  afternoons  in  the  days 
to  come,  to  cry  over  this  poor  little  trunk 
and  no  one  will  know  about  it.  It  will  be  a 
secret  known  only  to  her  sorrowing  heart  and 
to  God. 


200 


A  MEDIEVAL  DISCOVERER 

XXI 

ALILEI,  commonly  called  Galileo,  was 
born  at  Pisa  on  the  I4th  day  of  Feb 
ruary,  1 564.  He  was  the  man  who  discovered 
some  of  the  fundamental  principles  governing 
the  movements,  habits,  and  personal  pecu 
liarities  of  the  earth.  He  discovered  things 
with  marvelous  fluency.  Born  as  he  was,  at 
a  time  when  the  rotary  motion  of  the  earth 
was  still  in  its  infancy  and  astronomy  was 
taught  only  in  a  crude  way,  Galileo  started 
in  to  make  a  few  discoveries  and  advance 
some  theories  of  which  he  was  very  fond. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  musician  and  learned 
to  play  several  instruments  himself,  but  not 
in  such  a  way  as  to  arouse  the  jealousy  of  the 
great  musicians  of  his  day.  They  came  and 
heard  him  play  a  few  selections,  and  then  they 
went  home  contented  with  their  own  music. 
201 


A  MEDIEVAL  DISCOVERER. 

Galileo  played  for  several  years  in  a  band  at 
Pisa,  and  people  who  heard  him  said  that  his 
manner  of  gazing  out  over  the  Pisan  hills  with 
a  far-away  look  in  his  eye  after  playing  a  se 
lection,  while  he  gently  up-ended  his  alto  horn 
and  worked  the  mud-valve  as  he  poured  out 
about  a  pint  of  moist  melody  that  had  ac 
cumulated  in  the  flues  of  the  instrument,  was 
simply  grand. 

At  the  age  of  twenty  Galileo  began  to  dis 
cover.  His  first  discoveries  were,  of  course, 
clumsy  and  poorly  made,  but  very  soon  he 
commenced  to  turn  out  neat  and  durable  dis 
coveries  that  would  stand  for  years. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  he  noticed  the 
swinging  of  a  lamp  in  a  church,  and,  observ 
ing  that  the  oscillations  were  of  equal  dura 
tion,  he  inferred  that  this  principle  might  be 
utilized  in  the  exact  measurement  of  time. 
From  this  little  accident,  years  after,  came 
the  clock,  one  of  the  most  useful  of  man's 
dumb  friends.  And  yet  there  are  people  who 
will  read  this  little  incident  and  still  hesitate 
about  going  to  church. 

Galileo  also  invented  the  thermometer,  the 

202 


It  was  at  this  time  that  he  noticed  the  swinging  of  a  lamp 
in  a  church,  and  observing  that  the  oscillations  were  of  equal 
duration  (Page  202) 


. 


A  MEDIEVAL  DISCOVERER. 

microscope  and  the  proportional  compass. 
He  seemed  to  invent  things  not  for  the  money 
to  be  obtained  in  that  way,  but  solely  for  the 
joy  of  being  first  on  the  ground.  He  was  a 
man  of  infinite  genius  and  perseverance.  He 
was  also  very  fair  in  his  treatment  of  other 
inventors.  Though  he  did  not  personally  in 
vent  the  rotary  motion  of  the  earth,  he  heart 
ily  indorsed  it  and  said  it  was  a  good  thing. 
He  also  came  out  in  a  card  in  which  he  said 
that  he  believed  it  to  be  a  good  thing,  and 
that  he  hoped  some  day  to  see  it  applied  to 
the  other  planets. 

He  was  also  the  inventor  of  a  telescope  that 
had  a  magnifying  power  of  thirty  times.  He 
presented  this  to  the  Venetian  senate,  and  it 
was  used  in  making  appropriations  for  river 
and  harbor  improvements. 

By  telescopic  investigation  Galileo  discov 
ered  the  presence  of  microbes  in  the  moon, 
but  was  unable  to  do  anything  for  it.  I  have 
spoken  of  Mr.  Galileo,  informally  calling  him 
by  his  first  name,  all  the  way  through  this 
article,  for  I  feel  so  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  him,  though  there  was  such  a  striking 
203 


A  MEDIEVAL  DISCOVERER. 

difference  in  our  ages,  that  I  think  1  am  justi 
fied  in  using  his  given  name  while  talking  of 
him. 

Galileo  also  sat  up  nights  and  visited  with 
Venus  through  a  long  telescope  which  he  had 
made  himself  from  an  old  bamboo  fishing- 
rod. 

But  astronomy  is  a  very  enervating  branch 
of  science.  Galileo  frequently  came  down  to 
breakfast  with  red,  heavy  eyes,  eyes  that 
were  swollen  full  of  unshed  tears.  Still  he 
persevered.  Day  after  day  he  worked  and 
toiled.  Year  after  year  he  went  on  with  his 
task  till  he  had  worked  out  in  his  own  mind 
the  satellites  of  Jupiter  and  placed  a  small 
tin  tag  on  each  one,  so  that  he  would  know 
it  readily  when  he  saw  it  again.  Then  he 
began  to  look  up  Saturn's  rings  and  investi 
gate  the  freckles  on  the  sun.  He  did  not 
stop  at  trifles,  but  went  bravely  on  till  ev 
erybody  came  for  miles  to  look  at  him  and 
get  him  to  write  something  funny  in  their 
autograph  albums.  It  was  not  an  unusual 
thing  for  Galileo  to  get  up  in  the  morning, 
after  a  wearisome  night  with  a  fretful,  new- 
204 


A  MEDIEVAL  DISCOVERER. 

born  star,  to  find  his  front  yard  full  of  al 
bums.  Some  of  them  were  little  red  albums 
with  floral  decorations  on  them,  while  others 
were  the  large  plush  and  alligator  albums  of 
the  affluent.  Some  were  new  and  had  the 
price-mark  still  on  them,  while  others  were 
old,  foundered  albums,  with  a  droop  in  the 
back  and  little  flecks  of  egg  and  gravy  on  the 
title-page.  All  came  with  a  request  for  Gal 
ileo  "to  write  a  little,  witty,  characteristic 
sentiment  in  them." 

Galileo  was  the  author  of  the  hydrostatic 
paradox  and  other  sketches.  He  was  a  great 
reader  and  a  fluent  penman.  One  time  he 
was  absent  from  home,  lecturing  in  Venice  for 
the  benefit  of  the  United  Aggregation  of  Mu 
tual  Admirers,  and  did  not  return  for  two 
weeks,  so  that  when  he  got  back  he  found 
the  front  room  full  of  autograph  albums.  It 
is  said  that  he  then  demonstrated  his  great 
fluency  and  readiness  as  a  thinker  and  writer. 
He  waded  through  the  entire  lot  in  two  days 
with  only  two  men  from  West  Pisa  to  assist 
him.  Galileo  came  out  of  it  fresh  and  youth 
ful,  and  all  of  the  following  night  he  was 
205 


A   MEDIEVAL  DISCOVERER. 

closeted  with  another  inventor,  a  wicker- 
covered  microscope,  and  a  bologna  sausage. 
The  investigations  were  carried  on  for  two 
weeks,  after  which  Galileo  went  out  to  the 
inebriate  asylum  and  discovered  some  new 
styles  of  reptiles. 

Galileo  was  the  author  of  a  little  work 
called  "I  Discarsi  e  Dimas-Trazioni  Mate- 
matiche  Intorus  a  Due  Muove  Scienze."  It 
was  a  neat  little  book,  of  about  the  medium 
height,  and  sold  well  on  the  trains,  for  the 
Pisan  newsboys  on  the  cars  were  very  affable, 
as  they  are  now,  and  when  they  came  and 
leaned  an  armful  of  these  books  on  a  passen 
ger's  leg  and  poured  into  his  ear  a  long  tale 
about  the  wonderful  beauty  of  the  work,  and 
then  pulled  in  the.  name  of  the  book  from  the 
rear  of  the  last  car,  where  it  had  been  hang 
ing  on  behind,  the  passenger  would  most 
always  buy  it  and  enough  of  the  name  to 
wrap  it  up  in. 

He  also  discovered  the  isochronism  of  the 

pendulum.      He   saw  that   the   pendulum   at 

certain    seasons    of    the   year    looked   yellow 

under  the  eyes,   and  that  it  drooped  and  did 

206 


A  MEDIEVAL  DISCOVERER. 

not  enter  into  its  work  with  the  old  zest.  He 
began  to  study  the  case  with  the  aid  of  his 
new  bamboo  telescope  and  a  wicker-covered 
microscope.  As  a  result,  in  ten  days  he  had 
the  pendulum  on  its  feet  again. 

Galileo  was  inclined  to  be  liberal  in  his  re 
ligious  views,  more  especially  in  the  matter 
of  the  Scriptures,  claiming  that  there  were 
passages  in  the  Bible  which  did  not  literally 
mean  what  the  translator  said  they  did.  This 
was  where  Galileo  missed  it.  So  long  as  he 
discovered  stars  and  isochronisms  and  such 
things  as  that,  he  succeeded,  but  when  he 
began  to  fool  with  other  people's  religious 
beliefs  he  got  into  trouble.  He  was  forced  to 
fly  from  Pisa,  we  are  told  by  the  historian, 
and  we  are  assured  at  the  same  time  that 
Galileo,  who  had  always  been  far,  far  ahead 
of  all  competitors  in  other  things,  was  equally 
successful  as  a  fleer. 

Galileo  received  but  sixty  scudi  per  year 
as  his  salary  while  at  Pisa,  and  a  part  of  that 
he  took  in  town  orders,  worth  only  sixty 
cents  on  the  scudi. 


207 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE 

XXII 

EVERY  American  youth  has  been  told  re 
peatedly  by  his  parents  and  his  teach 
ers  that  he  must  be  a  good  boy  and  an  ex 
emplary  young  man  in  order  to  become  the 
president  of  the  United  States.  There  is 
nothing  new  in  this  statement,  and  I  do^  not 
print  it  because  I  regard  it  in  the  light  of  a 
"scoop."  But  I  desire  to  go  a  trifle  further, 
and  call  the  attention  of  the  American  youth 
to  the  fact  that  he  must  begin  at  a  much 
earlier  date  to  prepare  himself  for  the  presi 
dency  than  has  been  generally  taught.  He 
must  not  only  acquire  all  the  knowledge 
within  reach,  and  guard  his  moral  character 
night  and  day  through  life,  or  at  least  up  to 
the  time  of  his  election,  but  he  must  be  a 
self-made  man,  and  he  should  also  use  the 
208 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE. 

utmost  care  and  discretion  in  the  selection  of 
his  birthplace. 

A  boy  may  thoughtlessly  select  the  wrong 
state,  or  even  a  foreign  country,  as  the  site  for 
his  birthplace,  and  then  the  most  exemplary 
life  will  not  avail  him.  But  hardest  of  all, 
perhaps,  for  one  who  aspires  to  the  highest 
office  within  the  gift  of  the  people,  is  the  se 
lection  of  a  house  in  which  to  be  born.  For 
this  reason  I  have  selected  a  few  specimen 
birthplaces  for  the  guidance  of  those  who 
may  be  ignorant  of  the  points  which  should 
be  possessed  by  a  birthplace. 

Take,  for  instance,  the  residence  of  An 
drew  Jackson.  No  one  has  ever  retained  a 
stronger  hold  upon  the  tendrils  of  the  Demo 
cratic  heart  than  Andrew  Jackson.  His  name 
appears  more  frequently  to-day  in  papers  for 
which  he  never  subscribed  than  that  of  any 
other  president  who  has  passed  away. 

Andrew  Jackson  was  a  poor  boy,  whose 
father  was  a  farm  laborer  and  died  before 
Andrew's  birth,  thus  leaving  the  boy  per 
fectly  free  to  choose  the  site  of  his  birth 
place. 

14  209 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE. 

He  did  not  care  much  about  books,  but 
felt  confident  at  the  start  that  he  had  chosen  a 
good  place  to  be  born  at,  and 
therefore  could  not  be  de 
feated  in  his  race  for  the 
presidency.  Here  in  this 
house  A.  Jackson  first  saw 
the  light,  and  here  his  excel 
lency  sent  up  his  first  Demo 
cratic  whoop.  Here,  on  the  back  stoop,  was 
where  he  was  sent  sorrowing  at  night  to  wash 
his  chapped  feet  with  soft  soap  before  his 
mother  would  allow  him  to  go  to  bed.  Here 
Andrew  turned  the  grindstone  in  the  shed, 
while  a  large,  heavy  neighbor  got  on  and 
rode  for  an  hour  or  two.  Here  the  future 
president  sprouted  potatoes  in  the  dark  and 
noisome  cellar,  while  other  boys,  who  cared 
nothing  for  the  presidency,  drowned  out 
woodchucks  and  sucked  eggs  in  open  defi 
ance  of  the  pulpit  and  press  of  the  country. 
And  yet,  what  a  quiet,  peaceful,  unosten 
tatious  home,  with  its  little  windows  opening 
out  upon  the  snow  in  winter  and  upon  bare 
ground  in  summer.  How  peaceful  it  looks ! 

2IO 


Here  Andrew  turned  the  grindstone  in  the  shed,  ivhile  a 
large,  heavy  neighbor  got  on  and  rode  for  an  hour  or  two 
(Page  210) 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE. 

Who  would  believe  that  up  in  the  dark  cor 
ner  of  the  gable  end  it  harbors  a  large  iron- 
gray  hornets'  nest  with  brocaded  hornets  in 
it?  And  still  it  is  so  quiet  that,  on  hot  sum 
mer  afternoons,  while  the  bees  are  buzzing 
around  the  petunias  and  the  regular  breath 
ing  of  the  sandy-colored  shoat  in  the  back 
lot  shows  that  all  nature  is  hushed  and  drug 
ged  into  a  deep  and  oppressive  repose,  the 
old  hen,  lulled  into  a  sense  of  false  security, 
walks  into  the  "setting  room,"  eats  the  seeds 
out  of  several  everlasting  flowers,  samples  a 
few  varnished  acorns  on  an  ornamental  photo 
graph  frame  in  the  corner,  and  then  goes  out 
to  the  kitchen,  where  she  steps  into  the  dough 
that  is  set  behind  the  stove  to  raise. 

Here  in  this  quiet  home,  far  from  the  en 
ervating  pousse  cafe  and  carte  blanche,  where 
he  had  pork  rind  tied  on  the  outside  of  his 
neck  for  sore  throat,  and  where  pepper,  New 
Orleans  molasses  and  vinegar,  together  with 
other  groceries  calculated  to  discourage  ill 
ness,  were  put  inside,  he  laid  the  foundation 
of  his  future  greatness. 

Later  on,  the  fever  of  ambition  came  upon 

21  I 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE. 

him,  and  he  taught  school  where  the  big 
girls  snickered  at  him  and  the  big  boys  went 
so  far  away  at  noon  that  they  couldn't  hear 
the  bell  and  were  glad  of  it,  and  came  back 
an  hour  late  with  water  in  both  ears  and 
crawfish  in  their  pockets. 

After  that  he  learned  to  be  a  saddler,  fought 
in  the  Revolutionary  War,  afterward  writing  it 
up  for  the  papers  in  a  graphic  way,  show 
ing  how  it  happened  that  most  everybody  was 
killed  but  himself. 

Here  the  reader  is  given  an  excellent  view 
of   the    birthplace  of    Presi 
dent  Lincoln. 

The  artist  has  very  wisely 
left  out  of  the  picture  sev 
eral  people  who  sought  to 
hand  themselves  down  to 
posterity  by  being  photo 
graphed  in  various  careless  attitudes  in  the 
foreground. 

In  this  house  Mr.  Lincoln  determined  to 
establish  for  himself  a  birthplace  and  to  re 
main  for  eight  years  afterwards.  In  fancy, 
the  reader  can  see  little  Abraham  running 

212 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE. 


about  the  humble  cot,  preceded  by  his  pale, 
straw-colored  Kentucky  dog,  or  perhaps 
standing  in  "the  branch,"  with  the  sooth 
ing  mud  squirting  gently  up  between  his  dim 
pled  toes. 

Here  a  great  heart  first  learned  to  beat  in 
unison  with  all  humanity.  Late  one  night, 
after  the  janitor  had  retired,  he  pulled  the 
latch-string  of  this  humble  place  and  asked  if 
the  proprietor  objected  to  children.  Learn 
ing  that  he  did  not,  the  little  emancipator 
deposited  on  the  desk  a  small  parcel  con 
sisting  of  several  rectangular  cotton  garments 
done  up  in  a  shawl-strap,  and  asked  for  a  room 
with  a  bath. 

Our  next  illustration  shows  the  birthplace 
of  President  Garfield.      He  was  born  plainly 
at  Orange,  Cuyahoga  coun 
ty,  Ohio.    Here  he  spent  his 
childhood   in  preparing  for 
the  presidency,   lying  on 
his  stomach  for  hours  by  the 
light  of  a  pine-knot,  studying 
all  about  the  tariff,  and  as 
certaining  how  many  would  remain  if  Will- 
213 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE. 

iam  had  seven  apples  and  gave  three  to 
Henry  and  two  to  Jane.  He  soon  afterward 
went  to  work  on  a  canal  as  boatswain  of  a 
mule.  It  was  here  he  learned  that  profanity 
could  be  carried  to  excess.  He  very  early 
found  that  by  coupling  the  mule  to  the  boat 
by  the  use  of  a  cistern  pole,  instead  of  coming 
into  direct  contact  with  the  accursed  yet  buoy 
ant  end  of  the  animal,  he  could  bring  with 
him  a  better  record  to  the  class-meeting  than 
otherwise.  He  then  taught  school,  and  was 
beloved  by  all  as  a  tutor.  Many  of  his  pupils 
grew  up  to  be  ornaments  to  society,  and  said 
they  had  never  seen  tuting  that  could  equal 
that  of  their  old  tutor. 

Mr.  Garfield  availed  himself  of  the  above 
birthplace  on  the  ipth  of  November,  A.  D. 
1831.  He  then  utilized  it  as  a  residence. 

Here  we  are  given  a  fine  view  of  the  birth 
place  of  President  Cleveland.  It  is  a  plain 
structure,  containing  windows 
through  which  those  who  are 
inside  may  look  out,  while 
those  who  are  on  the  outside 
may  readily  look  in. 

Under  this  roof  the  idea  first 
came  to  Mr.  Cleveland   that 
214 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE. 

some  day  he  might  fill  the  presidential  chair 
to  overflowing.  If  the  reader  will  go  around 
to  the  door  of  the  shed  on  the  other  side  of 
the  house,  he  will  see  little  Grover  just  coming 
out  and  wiping  his  mouth  with  the  back  of 
his  hand. 

On  the  door  of  the  barn  can  be  seen  the 
following  legend,  scratched  on  its  surf  ace  with 
a  nail  : 

"I  druther  be  born  lucky  than  blong  to  a 
nold  Ristocratic  fambly.  S.  G.  C." 

Here  we  have  an  excellent  view  of  Mr. 
Harrison's  birthplace  from  the  main  road. 
It  hardly  seems  possible  that 
a  man  who  now  lives  in  a 
large  house,  with  a  spare 
room  to  it,  gas  in  all  parts 
of  it,  and  wool  carpets  on 
the  floor,  should  have  once 
lived  in  such  a  plain  struct 
ure  as  this.  It  shows  that  America  is  the 
place  for  the  poor  boy.  Here  he  can  rise  to 
a  great  height  by  his  own  powers.  Little  did 
Bennie  think  at  one  time  that  people  would 
some  day  come  from  all  quarters  of  the  United 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE. 


States  to  see  him  and  take  him  kindly  by  the 
hand  and  say  that  they  were  well  acquainted 
with  his  folks  when  they  were  poor. 

These  various  birthplaces  prove  to  us  what 
style  is  best  calculated  for  a  presidential  can 
didate.  They  demonstrate  that  poverty  is  no 
drawback,  and  that  frequently  it  is  a  good 
stimulant  for  the  right  kind  of  a  boy.  I  once 
knew  a  poor  boy  whose  clothes  did  not  fit 
him  very  well  when  he  was  little,  and  now 
that  he  is  grown  up  it  is  the  same  way. 

That  poor  boy  was  myself.  But  I  can  not 
close  this  research  without  saying  that  the 
boys  alone  can  not  claim  the  glory  in  Amer 
ica.  The  girls  are  entitled  to  recognition. 

Permit  me,  therefore,  to  present  the  birth 
place  of  Belva  A.  Lockwood.    I  do  not  speak 
of  it  because  I  desire  to  treat 
the  matter  lightly,  but  to  call 
attention  to  little  Belva's  sa 
gacity  in  selecting  the  same 
style    of   birthplace   as    that 
chosen    by    other    presiden 
tial   candidates.      She    very 
truly  said  in  the  course  of  a  conversation  with 
216 


HOW  TO  PICK  OUT  A  BIRTHPLACE. 

the  writer:  "My  theory  as  to  the  selection 
of  a  birthplace  is,  first  be  sure  you  are  right 
and  then  go  ahead." 

We  should  learn  from  all  the  above  that  a 
humble  origin  does  not  prevent  a  successful 
career.  Had  Abraham  Lincoln  been  wealthy, 
he  would  have  been  taught,  perhaps,  a  style 
of  elocution  and  gesture  that  would  have 
taken  first  rate  at  a  parlor  entertainment,  and 
yet  he  might  never  have  made  his  Gettysburg 
speech.  While  he  was  president  he  never 
looked  at  his  own  hard  hands  and  knotted 
knuckles  that  he  was  not  reminded  of  his 
toiling  neighbors,  whose  honest  sweat  and 
loyal  blood  had  made  this  mighty  republic  a 
source  of  glory  and  not  of  shame  forever. 

So,  in  the  future,  whether  it  be  a  Grover,  a 
Benjamin,  or  a  Belva,  may  the  President  of 
the  United  States  be  ever  ready  to  remove 
the  cotton  from  his  ears  at  the  first  cry  of  the 
oppressed  and  deserving  poor. 


217 


ON  BROADWAY 

XXIII 

ONCE  when  in  New  York  I  observed  a 
middle-aged  man  remove  his  coat  at 
the  corner  of  Fulton  street  and  Broadway 
and  wipe  the  shoulders  thereof  with  a  large 
red  handkerchief  of  the  Thurman  brand. 
There  was  a  dash  of  mud  in  his  whiskers  and 
a  crick  in  his  back.  He  had  just  sought  to 
cross  Broadway,  and  the  disappointed  ambu 
lance  had  gone  up  street  to  answer  another 
call.  He  was  a  plain  man  with  a  limited  vo 
cabulary,  but  he  spoke  feelingly.  I  asked 
him  if  I  could  be  of  any  service  to  him,  and 
he  said  No,  not  especially,  unless  I  would  be 
kind  enough  to  go  up  under  the  back  of  his 
vest  and  see  if  I  could  find  the  end  of  his  sus 
pender.  I  did  that  and  then  held  his  coat 
for  him  while  he  got  in  it  again.  He  after- 
218 


"A  man  that  crosses  Broadway  for  a  year  can 
be  mayor  of  Boston,  but  my  idee  is  that  he's  a  heap  more  likely 
to  be  mayor  of  the  New  Jerusalem11  (Page  220) 


ON  BROADWAY. 

ward  walked  down  the  east  side  of  Broadway 
with  me. 

"That's  twice  I've  tried  to  git  acrost  to 
take  the  Cortlandt  street  ferry  boat  sence  one 
o'clock,  and  hed  to  give  it  up  both  times," 
he  said,  after  he  had  secured  his  breath. 

"So  you  don't  live  in  town?" 

"No,  sir,  I  don't,  and  there  won't  be  any 
body  else  livin'  in  town,  either,  if  they  let 
them  crazy  teamsters  run  things.  Look  at  my 
coat!  I've  wiped  the  noses  of  seventy-nine 
single  horses  and  eleven  double  teams  sence 
one  o'clock,  and  my  vitals  is  all  a  perfect  jell. 
I  bet  if  I  was  hauled  up  right  now  to  be  post- 
mortumed  the  rear  breadths  of  my  liver  would 
be  a  sight  to  behold." 

"Why  didn't  you  get  a  policeman  to  escort 
you  across?" 

"Why,  condemb  it,  I  did  futher  up  the 
street,  and  when  I  left  him  the  policeman 
reckoned  his  collar-bone  was  broke.  It's  a 
blamed  outrage,  I  think.  They  say  that  a 
man  that  crosses  Broadway  for  a  year  can  be 
mayor  of  Boston,  but  my  idee  is  that  he's  a 


219 


ON  BROADWAY. 

heap  more  likely  to  be   mayor  of   the   New 
Jerusalem." 

"Where  do  you  live,  anyway?" 
"Well,  I  live  near  Pittsburg,  P.  A.,  where 
business  is  active  enough  to  suit  'most  any 
body,  'specially  when  a  man  tries  to  blow  out 
a  natural-gast  well,  but  we  make  our  teamsters 
subservient  to  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  We  don't  allow  this  Juggernaut  busi 
ness  the  way  you  fellers  do.  There  a  man 
would  drive  clear  round  the  block  ruther  than 
to  kill  a  child,  say  nuthin  of  a  grown  person. 
Here  the  hubs  and  fellers  of  these  big  drays 
and  trucks  are  mussed  up  all  the  time  with 
the  fragments  of  your  best  people.  Look  at 
me.  What  encouragement  is  there  for  a 
man  to  come  here  and  trade?  Folks  that 
live  here  tell  me  that  they  do  most  of  their 
business  by  telephone  in  the  daytime,  and 
then  do  their  runnin'  around  at  night,  but  I've 
got  apast  that.  Time  was  when  I  could  run 
around  nights  and  then  mow  all  day,  but  I 
can't  do  it  now.  People  that  leads  a  sud- 
dentary  life,  I  s'pose,  demands  excitement, 
and  at  night  they  will  have  their  fun ;  but  take 
220 


ON  BROADWAY. 

a  man  like  me— he  wants  to  transact  his  busi 
ness  in  the  daytime  by  word  o'  mouth,  and 
then  go  to  bed.  He  don't  want  to  go  home 
at  3  o'clock  with  a  plug  hat  full  of  digestive 
organs  that  he  never  can  possibly  put  back 
just  where  they  was  before. 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  run  down  a  big  city 
like  New  York  and  nuther  do  I  want  to  be 
run  down  myself.  They  tell  me  I  can  go  up 
town  on  this  side  and  take  the  boat  so  as  to 
get  to  Jersey  City  that  way,  and  I'm  going  to 
do  it  ruther  than  to  go  home  with  a  neck 
yoke  run  through  me.  Folks  say  that  Jurden 
is  a  hard  road  to  travel,  but  I'm  positive  that 
a  man  would  get  jerked  up  and  fined  for  driv 
ing  as  fast  there  as  they  do  on  Broadway; 
and  then  another  thing,  I  s'pose  there's  a 
good  deal  less  traffic  over  the  road." 

He  then  went  down  Wall  street  to  the  Han 
over  Square  station  and  I  saw  him  no  more. 


221 


MY  TRIP  TO  DIXIE 

XXIV 

1ONCE  took  quite  a  long  railway  trip  into 
the  South  in  search  of  my  health.  I 
called  my  physicians  together,  and  they  de 
cided  by  a  rising  vote  that  I  ought  to  go  to  a 
warmer  clime,  or  I  should  enjoy  very  poor 
health  all  winter.  So  I  decided  to  go  in 
search  of  my  health,  if  I  died  on  the  trail. 

I  bought  tickets  at  Cincinnati  of  a  pale, 
sallow  liar,  who  is  just  beginning  to  work  his 
way  up  to  the  forty-ninth  degree  in  the  Order 
of  Ananias.  He  will  surely  be  heard  from 
again  some  day,  as  he  has  the  elements  that 
go  to  make  up  a  successful  prevaricator. 

He  said  that  I  could  go  through  from  Cin 
cinnati  to  Asheville,  North  Carolina,  with  only 
one  easy  change  of  cars,  and  in  about  twenty- 
three  hours.  It  took  me  twice  that  time,  and 

222 


MY  TRIP  TO  DIXIE. 

I  had  to  change  cars  three  times  in  the  dead 
of  night. 

The  southern  railroad  is  not  in  a  flourish 
ing  condition.  It  ought  to  go  somewhere  for 
its  health.  Anyway,  it  ought  to  go  some 
where,  which  at  present  it  does  not.  Ac 
cording  to  the  old  Latin  proverb,  I  presume 
we  should  say  nothing  but  good  of  the  dead, 
but  I  am  here  to  say  that  the  railroad  that 
knocked  my  spine  loose  last  week,  and  com 
pelled  me  to  carry  lunch  baskets  and  large 
Norman  two-year-old  gripsacks  through  the 
gloaming,  till  my  arms  hung  down  to  the 
ground,  does  not  deserve  to  be  treated  well, 
even  after  death. 

I  do  not  feel  any  antipathy  toward  the 
South,  for  I  did  not  take  any  part  in  the  war, 
remaining  in  Canada  during  the  whole  time, 
and  so  I  can  not  now  be  accused  of  offensive 
partisanship.  I  have  always  avoided  any 
thing  that  would  look  like  a  settled  convic 
tion  in  any  of  these  matters,  retaining  always 
a  fair,  unpartisan  and  neutral  idiocy  in  rela 
tion  to  all  national  affairs,  so  that  I  might  be 


223 


MY  TRIP  TO  DIXIE. 

regarded  as  a  good  civil  service  reformer, 
and  perhaps  at  some  time  hold  an  office. 

To  further  illustrate  how  fair-minded  I  am 
in  these  matters,  I  may  say  I  have  patiently 
read  all  the  war  articles  written  by  both  sides, 
and  I  have  not  tried  to  dodge  the  foot-notes 
or  the  marginal  references,  or  the  war  maps 
or  the  memoranda.  I  have  read  all  these 
things  until  I  can't  tell  who  was  victorious, 
and  if  that  is  not  a  fair  and  impartial  way  to 
look  at  the  war,  I  don't  know  how  to  proceed 
in  order  to  eradicate  my  prejudices. 

But  a  railroad  is  not  a  political  or  sectional 
matter,  and  it  ought  not  to  be  a  local  matter 
unless  the  train  stays  at  one  end  of  the  line 
all  the  time.  This  road,  however,  is  the  one 
that  discharged  its  engineer  some  years  ago, 
and  when  he  took  his  time-check  he  said  he 
would  now  go  to  work  for  a  sure-enough  road 
with  real  iron  rails  to  it,  instead  of  two  streaks 
of  rust  on  a  right  of  way. 

All  night  long,  except  when  we  were 
changing  cars,  we  rattled  along  over  wob 
bling  trestles  and  third  mortgages.  The  cars 


224 


MY  TRIP  TO  DIXIE. 

were  graded  from  third-class  down.  The 
road  itself  was  not  graded  at  all. 

They  have  the  same  old  air  in  these  coaches 
that  they  started  out  with.  Different  people, 
with  various  styles  of  breath,  have  used  this 
air  and  then  returned  it.  They  are  using  the 
same  air  that  they  did  before  the  war.  It  is 
not,  strictly  speaking,  a  national  air.  It  is 
more  of  a  languid  air,  with  dark  circles 
around  its  eyes. 

At  one  place  where  I  had  an  engagement 
to  change  cars,  we  had  a  wait  of  four  hours, 
and  I  reclined  on  a  hair-cloth  lounge  at  the 
hotel,  with  the  intention  of  sleeping  a  part  of 
the  time. 

Dear,  patient  reader,  did  you  every  try  to 
ride  a  refractory  hair-cloth  lounge  all  night, 
bare  back?  Did  you  ever  get  aboard  a  short, 
old-fashioned,  black,  hair-cloth  lounge,  with 
a  disposition  to  buck? 

I  was  told  that  this  was  a  kind,  family 
lounge  that  would  not  shy  or  make  trouble 
anywhere,  but  I  had  only  just  closed  my 
dark-red  and  mournful  eyes  in  sleep  when 
this  lounge  gently  humped  itself,  and  shed 
15  225 


MY  TRIP  TO  DIXIE. 

me  as  it  would  its  smooth,  dark  hair  in  the 
spring,  tra  la. 

The  floor  caught  me  in  its  great  strong 
arms  and  I  vaulted  back  upon  the  polished 
bosom  of  the  hair-cloth  lounge.  It  was  made 
for  a  man  about  fifty-three  inches  in  length, 
and  so  I  had  to  sleep  with  my  feet  in  my  pis 
tol  pockets  and  my  nose  in  my  bosom  up  to 
the  second  joint. 

I  got  so  that  I  could  rise  off  the  floor  and 
climb  on  the  lounge  without  waking  up.  It 
grew  to  be  second  nature  to  me.  I  did  it 
just  as  a  man  who  is  hungry  in  his  sleep  bites 
off  large  fragments  of  the  air  and  eats  it  in 
voluntarily  and  smacks  his  lips  and  snorts. 
So  I  arose  and  deposited  myself  again  and 
again  on  that  old  swayback  but  frolicsome 
wreck  without  waking.  But  I  couldn't  get 
aboard  softly  enough  to  avoid  waking  the 
lounge.  It  would  yawn  and  rumble  inside 
and  rise  and  fall  like  the  deep  rolling  sea,  till 
at  last  I  gave  up  trying  to  sleep  on  it  any 
more,  and  curled  up  on  the  floor. 

The  hair-cloth  lounge,  in  various  conditions 
of  decrepitude,  may  be  found  all  through  this 
226 


I  bought  tickets  at  Cincinnati  of  a  pale,  salloiv  liar,  ivho  is 
just  beginning  to  work  his  way  up  to  the  forty -ninth  degree  in 
the  Order  of  A  nanias  (Page  222) 


MY  TRIP  TO  DIXIE. 

region.  Its  true  inwardness  is  composed  of 
spiral  springs  which  have  gnawed  through 
the  cloth  in  many  instances.  These  springs 
have  lost  none  of  their  old  elasticity  of  spirits, 
and  cordially  corkscrew  themselves  into  the 
affections  of  the  man  who  sits  down  on  them. 
If  anything  could  make  me  thoroughly  at 
tached  to  the  South  it  would  be  one  of  these 
spiral  springs  bored  into  my  person  about  a 
foot.  But  that  is  the  only  way  to  remain  on 
a  hair-cloth  chair  or  sofa.  No  man  ever  suc 
cessfully  sat  on  one  of  them  for  any  length  of 
time  unless  he  had  a  strong  pair  of  pantaloons 
and  a  spiral  spring  twisted  into  him  for  some 
distance. 

In  private  houses  hair-cloth  sofas  may  be 
found  in  a  domesticated  state,  with  a  pair  of 
dark,  reserved  chairs,  waiting  for  some  one 
to  come  and  fall  off  them.  In  hotels  they  go 
in  larger  flocks,  and  graze  together  in  the 
parlor. 


227 


THE  THOUGHT  CLOTHIER 
xxv 

GENERAL  DADO  has  been  sharplj  criticised— 
roundly  abused,  even  —  for  making  a  claim 
against  the  Grant  estate  for  alleged  assistance 
in  preparing  the  "  Memoirs  "  that  have  added  to  that 
estate  some  half-million  of  dollars.  The  Philadelphia 
Bulletin  says  : — "  There  is  no  mark  of  contempt  so 
strong  that  it  ought  not  to  be  fixed  on  so  shameless 
and  unblushing  an  ingrate."  And  it  is  this — the  man's 
ingratitude— that  most  offends.  General  Grant's  un 
swerving  loyalty  to  Dado,  his  zeal  in  giving  places  to 
him  so  long  as  he  had  them  to  give,  and  in  soliciting 
others  to  give  them  when  it  was  no  longer  in  his  own 
power  to  do  so,  was  an  offense  in  the  nostrils  of  most 
Americans.  His  intimacy  with  Dado  was  one  of  the 
causes  of  Grant's  being  in  bad  odor,  as  it  were,  at  a 
certain  period  of  his  career;  and  the  present  unpleas 
antness  is  a  part  of  the  penalty  for  taking  such  a  man 
into  his  bosom.  The  claimant  is  getting  the  worst  of 
it,  however,  and  we  are  tempted  to  overlook  his  ingrat 
itude  for  the  sake  of  the  following  skit  called  forth  by 
his  appearance  as  a  thinker  and  clothier  of  thoughts. 
—  The  Critic. 

228 


THE  THOUGHT  CLOTHIER. 

There  is  something  slightly  pathetic  in  the 
delayed  statement  that  some  of  General 
Grant's  best  thoughts  were  supplied  by  Gen 
eral  Adam  Dado.  While  it  is  a  great  credit 
to  any  man  to  do  the  meditating,  pondering, 
and  word-painting  necessary  for  a  book  which 
can  attain  such  a  sale  as  Grant's  "  Memoirs," 
it  shows  a  condition  of  affairs  which  every 
literary  man  or  woman  must  sadly  deplore. 
Who  of  us  is  now  safe? 

While  the  warrior,  as  a  warrior,  has  noth 
ing  to  do  but  continue  victorious  through 
life,  he  can  not  safely  write  a  book  for  pos 
terity.  Literature  is  at  all  times  more  or  less 
hazardous  under  present  copy  right  regulations, 
but  it  becomes  doubly  so  when  our  estates 
have  to  reimburse  some  silent  thinker  who 
thought  things  for  us  while  amanuensing  in 
our  employ.  Even  though  we  may  have  told 
him  not  to  think  thoughts  for  us,  even  though 
we  asked  him  as  a  special  favor  to  avoid 
putting  his  own  clothing  on  our  poor,  little, 
shivering,  naked  facts,  there  is  no  law  which 
can  prevent  his  making  that  claim  after  we 
are  dead. 

229 


THE  THOUGHT  CLOTHIER. 

And  how  can  a  court  of  law  or  an  intelli 
gent  jury  judge  such  a  matter?  A  great  man 
thinks  a  thought  in  the  presence  of  two  aman 
uenses,  provided  I  am  right  in  spelling  the 
plural  in  that  way.  He  thinks  a  thought,  I 
say,  surrounded  by  those  two  gentlemen  and 
an  improved  typewriter.  He  gives  utterance 
to  the  thought  and  dies.  One  of  the  aman- 
uensisters  then  states  to  the  jury  that  he 
thought  it  himself,  and  that  his  comrade 
clothed  it.  The  estate  is  then  asked  to  pay 
so  much  per  think  for  the  thoughts  and  so 
much  at  war  prices  for  clothing  the  ideas. 
Who  is  able,  unless  it  be  an  intelligent  jury, 
to  arrive  at  the  truth? 

The  first  question  to  ask  ourselves  is  this : 
Was  General  Grant  in  the  habit  of  calling  in 
a  thinker  whenever  he  wanted  anything  done 
in  that  line?  He  says  distinctly  in  his  letter 
that  he  was  not.  He  could  not  do  it.  It  was 
impracticable.  Supposing  in  the  crash  of  bat 
tle  and  in  the  moment  of  victory  your  short, 
hard  thinker  has  his  head  shot  off  and  it  falls 
in  a  pumpkin  orchard,  where  there  is  natu 
rally  more  or  less  delay  in  identifying  it,  what 
230 


THE  THOUGHT  CLOTHIER. 

can  you  do?  Suppose  that  you  were  the  pres 
ident  of  the  United  States,  and  your  think- 
supply  got  snow-bound  at  Newark  in  a  ves 
tibule  train,  and  congress  were  waiting  for  you 
to  veto  a  bill.  You  could  not  think  the 
thought  in  the  first  place,  and  even  if  you 
could  you  would  hate  to  send  it  to  congress 
until  it  was  properly  clothed.  I  am  told  that 
nothing  shocks  congress  so  much  as  the  sud 
den  appearance  "in  its  midst"  of  a  naked 
and  new-born  thought. 

But  General  Dado  has  the  advantage  over 
General  Grant  in  one  respect.  He  can  not 
be  injured  much.  Otherwise  the  case  is 
against  him.  But  the  matter  will  be  watched 
with  careful  interest  by  literary  people  gener 
ally,  and  especially  by  soldiers  and  magazines 
with  a  war  history.  It  is  a  warning  to  those 
who  think  their  thoughts  in  unguarded  mo 
ments  while  stenographers  may  be  near  to 
take  them  down  and  claim  them  aftenvards. 
It  is  also  a  warning  to  people  who  thought 
lessly  expose  naked  facts  in  the  presence  of 
word-painters  and  thought-clothiers,  who  may 


231 


THE  THOUGHT  CLOTHIER. 

decorate  and  outfit  these  children  of  the  brain 
and  charge  it  up  to  the  estate. 

Is  the  time  coming  when  general  dealers  in 
apparel  and  gents'  furnishing  goods  for  the 
use  of  bare  facts,  and  men  who  attend  to  the 
costuming,  draping,  and  swaddling  of  nude 
ideas,  will  compete  so  closely  with  each  other 
that,  before  a  think  has  its  eyes  fairly  open, 
one  of  these  gentlemen  will  slap  a  suit  of 
clothes  on  it,  with  a  Waterbury  watch  in  each 
pocket,  and  have  a  boy  half  way  to  the  office 
with  the  bill  ? 


232 


A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS. 

XXVI 

"T)UGET  Sound  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
1  most  beautiful  sheets  of  water  in  the 
world.  Its  bosom  is  as  unruffled  as  that  of 
an  angel  who  is  opposed  to  ruffles  on  general 
principles. 

To  say  that  real  estate  was  once  active  at 
certain  places  on  its  shores  is  just  simply 
about  as  powerful  as  the  remark  made  by  the 
frontiersman  who  came  home  from  his  haying 
one  afternoon  and  found  that  the  Indians  had 
burned  up  his  buildings,  massacred  his  wife, 
driven  off  his  milch  cows  and  killed  his  chil 
dren.  He  looked  over  the  bloody  scene  and 
then  said  to  himself  with  great  feeling: 
"This,  it  seems  tome,  is  perfectly  ridiculous." 

I  once  drove  about  Seattle  for  two  days 
with  a  real  estate  man,  not  buying,  but  just 
riding  and  enjoying  the  scenery  while  we  al- 

233 


A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS. 

lowed  prices  gently  to  advance  and  our  whisk* 
ers  to  grow.  Finally  I  asked  him  if  he  knew 
of  a  real  "snap,"  as  Herbert  Spencer  would 
call  it,  within  the  reach  of  a  poor  man.  He 
said  that  there  was  a  bargain  out  towards 
Lake  Washington,  and  if  I  wanted  to  see  it 
we  could  go  out  there.  I  said  I  should  like 
to  see  it,  for,  if  really  desirable,  I  might  buy 
some  outside  property.  We  drove  quite 
awhile  through  the  primeval  forest,  and  after 
baiting  our  team  and  eating  some  lunch  which 
we  had  with  us,  we  resumed  our  journey, 
scaring  up  a  bear  on  the  way,  which  I  was 
assured,  however,  was  a  tame  bear.  At  last 
we  tied  the  team,  and,  walking  over  the 
ridge,  we  found  a  lot  facing  west,  seventy- 
three  feet  front,  which  could  be  had  then  at 
$1,500.  I  don't  suppose  you  could  get  it  at 
that  price  now,  for  it  is  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  the  power  house  and  cable  running 
from  the  city  to  Lake  Washington. 

A  friend  of  mine  once  told  me  how  he  lost 

a  trade  in  Spokane  Falls.   He  had  the  refusal 

for  a  week  of  a  twenty-four-foot  business  lot 

"at  $500."     He  thought  and  worried   and 

234 


A  RUBBER  KSO'FHAGUS. 

prayed  over  it,  and  wrote  home  about  it,  and 
finally  decided  to  take  it.  On  the  last  day 
of  grace  he  counted  up  his  money  and  find 
ing  that  he  had  just  the  amount,  he  went 
over  to  the  agent's  office  with  it  to  close  the 
trade. 

"Have  you  the  currency  with  you  to  make 
the  trade  all  cash?"  asked  the  agent. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have  the  whole  $500  in  cur 
rency,"  said  my  friend,  drawing  himself  up 
to  his  full  height  and  putting  his  cigar  back  a 
little  further  in  his  cheek. 

"Five  hundred  dollars!"  exclaimed  the 
agent  with  a  low,  gurgling  laugh;  "the  lot 
is  $500  per  front  foot.  I  didn't  suppose  you 
were  Pan-American  ass  enough  to  think  you 
could  get  a  business  lot  in  Spokane  for  $500. 
You  can't  get  a  load  of  sand  for  your  chil 
dren  to  play  in  at  that  rate." 

Once  as  my  train  passed  a  little  red  depot  I 
saw  a  young  squaw  leaning  up  against  the 
building,  and  crying.  As  we  moved  along  I 
saw  a  plain  black  coffin — a  cheap  affair  of 
pine,  daubed  with  walnut  stain  to  make  it 
look  still  cheaper,  I  presume.  I  had  never 
235 


A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS. 

seen  an  Indian — even  a  squaw — weeping  be 
fore,  and  so  the  picture  remained  with  me 
a  long  time,  and  may  for  a  long  time  yet  to 
come. 

I've  never  been  a  pronounced  friend  of  the 
Indian,  as  those  who  know  me  best  will  agree. 
I  have  claimed  that  though  he  was  first  to 
locate  in  this  country,  he  did  not  develop  the 
lead  or  do  assessment  work  even,  so  the  thing 
was  open  to  re-location.  The  white  man  has 
gone  on  and  found  mineral  in  many  places, 
made  a  big  output,  and  is  still  working  day 
and  night  shifts,  while  the  Indian  is  shiftless 
day  and  night,  so  far  as  I  have  observed. 

But  when  we  see  the  poor  devils  buying 
our  coffins  for  their  dead,  even  though  they 
may  go  very  hungry  for  days  afterwards, 
and,  as  they  fade  away  forever  as  a  people, 
striving  to  conform  to  our  customs  and  wear 
suspenders  and  join  in  prayer,  common  hu 
manity  leads  us  to  think  solemnly  of  their 
melancholy  end. 

On  that  trip  I  met  with  a  medical  and 
surgical  curiosity  while  on  the  cars.  It  con 
sisted  of  a  young  man  who  was  compelled 

236 


A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS. 

to  take  his  nourishment  through  a  rubber 
tube  which  led  directly  into  his  stomach 
through  his  side.  I  had  heard  of  something 
like  it  and  in  my  extensive  medical  library 
had  read  of  cases  resembling  it,  but  not  en 
tirely  the  same.  The  conductor,  who  had 
shown  me  a  great  many  little  courtesies  al 
ready,  invited  me  into  the  baggage  car,  where 
he  had  the  young  man,  in  order  that  I  might 
see  him. 

The  subject  was  a  German  about  twenty 
years  of  age,  of  dark  complexion  and  phleg 
matic  temperament.  He  stood  probably  about 
five  feet  four  inches  high  in  his  stocking  feet 
and  did  not  attract  me  as  a  person  of  promi 
nence  until  the  conductor  informed  me  that 
he  ate  through  the  side  of  his  vest. 

It  seems  that  about  two  years  ago  the  boy 
had  some  little  gastric  disturbance  resulting 
from  eating  a  nocturnal  watermelon  or  callow 
cucumber.  As  I  understand  it,  he,  in  an  un 
guarded  moment,  called  a  physician  who 
aimed  to  be  his  own  worst  enemy,  but  who 
contrived  to  work  in  the  public  on  the  same 
basis,  using  no  favoritism  whatever.  He  was 
237 


A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS. 

a  doctor  who  has  since  gone  into  the  gibber 
ing  industry  in  alcoholic  circles. 

So  it  happened  that  on  the  day  he  was 
called  to  the  bedside  of  this  plain,  juvenile 
colic,  the  enemy  he  had  taken  into  his  mouth 
the  evening  before  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
rifled  his  pseudo-brains,  and  being  bitterly 
disappointed  in  them,  had  no  doubt  failed  to 
return  them. 

Therefore  "Doc,"  as  he  was  affectionately 
called  by  the  widowers  throughout  the  neigh 
borhood,  was  entirely  unfit  to  prescribe.  He 
did  so,  however,  just  the  same.  That  kind 
of  a  doctor  is  generally  willing  to  rush  in 
where  angels  fear  to  tread.  He  cheerfully 
prescribed  for  the  boy,  and,  in  fact,  filled  the 
prescription  himself.  The  principal  ingredi 
ent  of  this  compound  was  carbolic  acid.  A 
man  who  can,  by  mistake,  administer  car 
bolic  acid  and  not  even  smell  it,  must  do  his 
thinking  by  means  of  a  sort  of  intellectual 
wart. 

But  he  did  it,  anyhow. 

So,  after  great  suffering,  the  young  fellow 
lost  the  use  of  his  entire  esophagus,  the  lin- 

238 


A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS. 

ing  coming  off  as  a  result  of  this  liquid  holo 
caust,  and  then  afterwards  growing  together 
again. 

The  parents  now  decided  to  change  physi 
cians.  So  after  giving  "Doc"  a  cow  and 
settling  up  with  him,  another  physician  was 
called  in.  He  said  there  was  no  way  to  reach 
the  stomach  but  from  the  exterior,  and,  al 
though  hazardous,  it  might  save  the  patient's 
life.  Speedy  action  must  be  taken,  however, 
as  the  young  man  was  already  getting  up 
quite  an  appetite. 

I  can  imagine  Old  Man  Gastric  waiting 
there  patiently,  day  after  day,  every  little 
while  looking  at  his  watch,  wondering,  and 
singing : 

We  are  waiting,  waiting,  waiting, 

Finally,  as  he  sits  near  the  cardial  orifice, 
where  the  sign  has  been  recently  put  up, 

THE  ELEVATOR  is  NOT  RUNNING, 

a  light  bursts  through  the  walls  of  his  house 
and  he  hears  voices.  Hastily  throwing  one 
of  the  coats  of  the  stomach  over  his  shoulders, 
he  springs  to  his  feet  just  in  time  to  catch 
239 


A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS. 

about  a  nickel's  worth  of  warm  beef  tea  down 
the  back  of  his  neck. 

The  patient  now  wears  about  two  feet  of 
inch  hose,  one  end  of  which  is  introduced 
into  the  upper  and  anterior  lobe  of  the  stom 
ach.  The  other  he  has  embellished  with  a 
plain  cork  stopper.  I  asked  him  if  he  would 
join  me  *in  a  drink  of  water  from  the  ice- 
cooler,  and  he  said  he  would,  under  the  cir 
cumstances.  He  said  that  he  had  just  taken 
one,  but  would  not  mind  taking  one  more 
with  me.  He  then  removed  the  stopper  from 
his  new  Goodyear  esophagus,  inserted  a  neat 
little  tin  funnel,  with  which  he  was  able  to 
introduce  the  water.  It  gently  settled  down 
and  disappeared  in  his  depths,  and  then,  put 
ting  away  the  garden  hose,  he  accepted  a 
dollar  and  gave  me  a  history  of  the  case  as  I 
have  set  it  forth  above,  or  substantially  so,  at 
least. 

I  could  not  help  thinking  of  him  afterward. 
I  tried  to  imagine  him  on  his  way  to  Europe 
over  a  stormy  sea ;  the  surprise  of  his  stomach 
when  it  found  itself  frustrated  and  beaten  at 
its  own  game,  and  all  that.  Then  I  thought 
240 


A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS. 

of  him  as  the  honored  guest  of  some  great 
corporation  or  club,  and  at  the  banquet,  when 
the  president,  in  a  few  well-chosen  words, 
apparently  born  of  the  moment  but  really 
wearing  trousers,  says,  "Gentlemen,  we  have 
with  us  this  evening,"  etc.,  etc.;  and  then 
rising,  all  the  members  join  in  a  toast  to  the 
guest.  Touching  his  glass  to  theirs,  and  then 
gracefully  unreeling  his  garden  hose,  he  takes 
from  his  pocket  the  small  funnel,  and,  gently 
sipping  the  generous  wine  through  his  tin 
pharynx,  he  begins  his  well-digested  response. 

Nature  did  not  do  much  for  this  poor  lad, 
but  science  has  stepped  in  and  made  him  a 
man  of  mark.  He  went  to  bed  unknown. 
He  awoke  to  find  himself  noted.  He  went  to 
sleep  with  ordinary  tastes.  He  arose  with  no 
taste  at  all.  Thus,  through  the  medical  treat 
ment  of  a  typhoid  idiot,  for  a  disease  which 
was  in  no  way  malignant,  or,  as  I  might  say, 
therapeutic,  he  became  a  man  of  parts  and 
stands  next  to  the  nobility  of  Europe,  not 
having  to  work. 

Afterward,  in  Paris,  I  saw  on  the  street 
a  man  who  played  the  trombone  by  means  of 
16  241 


A  RUBBER  ESOPHAGUS. 

a  bullet-hole  in  his  trachea,  but  I  do  not  think 
it  elevated  me  and  spurred  me  on  to  nobler 
endeavor  and  made  a  better  man  of  me,  as 
did  this  simple-hearted  young  gentleman  who 
made  a  living  by  eating  publicly  through  a 
tin  horn,  and  who  actually  earned  his  bread 
by  eating  it.  I  hope  that  the  medical  frater 
nity  will  make  his  case  a  study  and  try  to  do 
better  next  time.  That  is  the  only  moral  I 
can  think  of  in  connection  with  this  story. 


242 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON 

XXVII 

MY  DEAR  SON  :  I  just  came  here  to  New 
York  on  business,  and  thought  I  would  write 
to  you  a  few  lines,  as  I  have  a  little  time  that 
is  not  taken  up.  I  came  here  on  a  train  from 
Chicago  the  other  day.  Before  I  started,  I 
got  a  lower  berth  in  a  sleeping  car,  but  when 
I  went  to  put  my  sachel  in  it,  before  I  left 
Chicago,  there  were  two  women  and  a  little 
girl  there,  and  so  I  told  the  porter  I  would 
wait  until  they  moved  before  I  put  my  bag 
gage  in  the  section,  for  of  course  I  thought 
they  were  just  sitting  there  for  a  minute  to 
rest. 

Hours  rolled  by  and  they  did  not  move.  I 
kept  on  sitting  in  the  smoking-room,  but  they 
stayed.  By  and  by  the  porter  came  and 
asked  me  if  I  had  "lower  four."  I  said  yes 
— I  paid  for  it,  but  I  couldn't  really  say  I  had 
243 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

it  in  my  possession.  He  then  said  that  two 
ladies  and  a  little  girl  had  "upper  four,"  and 
asked  if  I  would  mind  swapping  with  them. 
I  said  that  I  would  do  so,  for  I  didn't  see 
how  a  whole  family  circle  could  climb  up  into 
the  upper  berth  and  remain  there,  and  I 
would  rather  give  them  the  lower  one  than 
spend  the  night  picking  up  different  members 
of  the  family  and  replacing  them  in  the  home 
nest  after  they  had  fallen  out. 

I  had  a  bad  cold,  and  though  I  knew  that 
sleeping  in  the  upper  berth  would  add  to  it, 
I  did  not  murmur.  But  little  did  I  realize 
that  they  would  hold  the  whole  thing  all  of 
two  days,  and  fill  it  full  of  broken  crackers 
and  banana  peels,  and  leave  me  to  ride  back 
ward  in  the  smoking-room  from  Chicago  to 
New  York,  after  I  had  paid  five  dollars  for  a 
seat  and  lower  berth. 

Woman  is  a  poor,  frail  vessel,  Henry,  but 
she  manages  to  arrive  at  her  destination  all 
right.  She  buys  an  upper  berth  and  then 
swaps  it  with  an  old  man  for  his  lower  berth, 
giving  to  boot  a  half-smothered  sob  and  two 
scalding  tears .  Then  she  says  ' '  Thank  you , ' ' 
244 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

if  she  feels  like  it  at  the  end  of  the  road, 
though  these  women  did  not.  I  have  pnue- 
monia  in  its  early  stages,  but  I  have  done  a 
kind  act,  which  I  shall  probably  have  to  do 
over  again  when  I  return. 

If  you  ever  become  the  parent  of  a  daugh 
ter,  Henry,  and  you  like  her  pretty  well,  I 
hope  you  will  teach  her  to  acknowledge  a 
courtesy,  instead  of  looking  upon  the  earth 
and  the  fullness  thereof  as  a  partnership  prop 
erty,  owned  jointly  by  herself  and  the  Lord. 

A  woman  who  has  traveled  a  good  deal  is 
generally  polite,  and  knows  how  to  treat  her 
fellow  passengers  and  the  porter,  but  people 
who  are  making  their  first  or  second  trip,  I 
notice,  most  generally  betray  the  fact  by 
tramping  all  over  the  other  passengers. 

Another  mistake,  Henry,  which  I  hope  you 
will  not  make,  is  that  of  taking  very  small 
children  to  travel.  Children  should  remain 
at  home  until  they  are  at  least  two  or  three 
days  old,  otherwise  they  are  troublesome  to 
their  parents  and  also  bother  the  other  pas 
sengers.  There  ought  to  be  a  law,  too,  that 
would  prevent  parents  from  taking  larger 
245 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

children  who  should  be  in  the  reform  school. 
Some  parents  seem  to  think  that  what  their 
children  do  is  funny,  when,  instead  of  humor, 
it  is  really  felony.  It  does  not  entirely  set 
matters  right,  for  instance,  when  a  child  has 
torn  off  a  gentleman's  ear,  merely  to  make 
the  child  return  it  to  the  owner,  for  you  can 
never  put  an  ear  back  in  its  place  after  it  has 
been  torn  off  and  stepped  on,  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  it  look  the  same  as  it  did  at  first. 

I  heard  a  mother  say  on  the  train  that  her 
little  boy  never  was  quite  himself  while  trav 
eling,  because  he  wasn't  well.  She  feared  it 
was  the  change  in  the  water  that  made  him 
sick.  He  had  then  drank  a  whole  ice-water 
tank  empty,  and  was  waiting  impatiently  till 
we  got  to  Pittsburg,  so  that  he  could  drink 
out  of  the  hydrant. 

Queer  people  also  ride  on  the  elevated 
trains  here  in  New  York.  It  is  a  singular 
experience  to  a  stranger  to  ride  on  these  cars. 
It  made  me  ill  at  first,  but  after  awhile  I  got 
so  mad  that  I  forgot  about  it.  For  instance, 
at  places  like  Fourteenth  street,  and  Twenty- 
third  street,  and  Park  Place,  there  are  gener- 
246 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

ally  several  people  who  want  to  get  aboard  a 
little  before  the  passengers  get  off.  Two  or 
three  times  I  was  carried  by  because  the 
guards  wouldn't  enforce  the  rule,  and  I  had 
a  good  deal  of  trouble,  till  I  took  an  old 
pair  of  Mexican  spurs  out  of  my  trunk  and 
strapped  them  on  my  elbows.  After  that  I 
could  stroll  along  Broadway,  or  get  off  a  train 
when  I  got  ready,  and  have  some  comfort. 

The  gates  on  the  elevated  trains  get  shet 
rather  sudden  sometimes,  and  once  they  shet 
in  a  part  of  a  man,  I  was  told,  and  left  the 
rest  of  him  on  the  outside,  so  that  after  a  while 
he  fell  off  over  the  trestle,  because  there  was 
more  of  him  on  the  outside  than  on  the  inside, 
and  he  didn't  seem  to  balance  somehow.  It 
was  rare  sport  for  the  guards  to  watch  the  man 
scraping  along  the  side  of  the  road  and  sweep 
ing  off  the  right  of  way. 

One  day,  when  I  was  on  board,  there  was 
a  crowd  at  one  of  the  stations,  and  an  old  man 
and  a  little  girl  tried  to  get  on.  She  was 
looking  out  for  the  old  man,  and  seemed  to 
kind  of  steer  him  on  the  platform.  Just  as  he 
stepped  on  the  train,  the  guard  shut  the  gate 
247 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

and  left  the  little  girl  outside.  She  looked 
so  scart  and  pitiful,  as  the  train  left  her,  that 
I'll  never  forget  it  to  my  dying  day,  and  as 
we  left  the  platform  I  saw  her  wring  her  poor 
little  hands,  and  I  heard  her  cry,  "  Oh,  mis 
ter,  let  me  go  with  him.  My  poor  grandpa 
is  blind." 

Sure  enough,  the  old  man  groped  around 
almost  crazy  on  that  swaying  train,  without 
knowing  where  he  was,  and  feeling  through 
the  empty  air  for  the  gentle  hand  of  the  little 
girl  who  had  been  left  behind.  Two  or  three 
of  us  took  care  of  the  old  man  and  got  him 
off  at  the  next  station,  where  we  waited  till 
she  came ;  but  it  was  the  most  touching  thing 
I  ever  saw  outside  of  a  book. 

Another  day  the  cars  were  full  till  you 
couldn't  seem  to  get  even  an  umbrella  into 
the  aisle,  I  thought,  but  yet  the  guards  told 
people  to  step  along  lively,  and  encouraged 
them  by  prodding  and  pinching  till  most 
everybody  was  fighting  mad. 

Then  a  pale  girl,  with  a  bundle  of  sewing 
in  her  hand,  and  a  hollow  cough  that  made 
everybody  look  that  way,  got  into  the  aisle. 
248 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

She  could  just  barely  get  hold  of  the  strap, 
and  that  was  all.  She  wore  a  poor,  black 
cotton  jersey,  and  when  she  reached  up  so 
high,  the  jersey  part  would  not  stay  where  it 
belonged,  and  at  the  waist  seemed  to  throw 
off  all  responsibility.  She  realized  it,  and 
bit  her  lips,  and  two  red  spots  came  on  her 
pale  face,  and  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes, 
but  she  couldn't  let  go  of  her  bundle,  and 
she  couldn't  let  go  of  the  strap,  for  already 
the  train  threw  her  against  a  soiled  man  on 
one  side  and  a  tough  on  the  other.  It  was 
pitiful  enough,  so  that  men  who  had  their 
seats  began  to  read  advertisements  and  other 
things  with  their  papers  wrong  side  up,  in 
order  to  seem  thoroughly  engrossed  in  their 
business. 

But  two  pretty  young  men,  with  real  good 
clothes,  and  white,  soft  hands,  had  a  great 
deal  of  fun  over  it,  and  every  time  the  train 
would  lurch  and  throw  the  poor  girl's  jersey 
a  little  more  out  of  plumb,  they  would  jab 
each  other  in  the  ribs,  and  laugh  very  hearty. 
I  felt  sorry  that  I  wasn't  young  again,  so  that 
I  could  go  over  there  and  kick  both  of  them. 
249 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

Henry,  if  I  thought  you  would  do  a  thing 
like  that,  or  allow  it  done  on  the  same  block 
where  you  happened  to  be,  I  would  give  my 
estate  to  a  charitable  object,  and  refuse  to 
recognize  you  in  Paradise. 

Just  then  an  oldish  man  of  a  chunky  build, 
and  with  an  eye  as  black  as  the  driven  tom 
cat,  reached  through  the  crowded  aisle  with 
his  umbrella  and  touched  the  girl.  She  looked 
around,  and  he  told  her  to  come  and  take  his 
seat.  As  she  squeezed  through,  and  he  rose 
to  seat  her,  a  large  man  with  black  whiskers 
gently  dropped  into  the  vacant  seat  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  and  began  to  read  a  two-year- 
old  paper  with  much  earnestness,  just  as  if  he 
hadn't  noticed  the  whole  performance.  The 
stout  man  was  thunderstruck.  He  said: 

"Excuse  me,  sir;  I  didn't  leave  my  seat." 

"Yes,  you  did,"  says  the  black-whiskered 
pachyderm.  "You  can't  expect  to  keep  a 
seat  here  and  leave  it  too." 

"Well,  but  I  rose  to  put  this  young  lady 
in  it,  and  I  must  ask  you  to  be  kind  enough 
to  let  her  have  it." 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  microbe,  with  a 
250 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

little  chuckle  of  cussedness,  "you  will  have 
to  take  your  chances,  and  wait  for  a  vacant 
seat,  same  as  I  did." 

That  was  all  the  conversation  there  was, 
but  just  then  the  short  fat  man  ran  his  thumb 
down  inside  the  shirt  collar  of  the  yellow 
fever  germ,  and  jerked  him  so  high  that  I 
could  see  the  nails  on  the  bottoms  of  his 
boots.  Then,  with  the  other  hand,  he  socked 
the  young  lady  into  his  seat,  and  took  hold 
of  a  strap,  where  he  hung  on  white  and  mad, 
but  victorious. 

After  that  there  was  a  loud  hurrah,  and 
general  enthusiasm  and  hand  clapping,  and 
cries  of ' '  Good  !  "  "  Good  !  "  and  in  the  midst 
of  it  the  sporadic  hog  and  the  two  refined 
young  men  got  off  the  train. 

As  the  black  and  white  Poland  swine  went 
out  the  door  I  noticed  that  there  was  blood 
on  the  back  of  his  neck,  and  later  on  I  saw 
the  short,  stout  old  gentleman  remove  a  large 
mole  or  birthmark,  which  he  really  had  no 
use  for,  from  under  his  thumb  nail. 

On  a  Harlem  train,  as  they  call  it,  I  saw  a 
drunken  young  man  in  one  of  the  seats  yes- 
251 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

terday.  He  wasn't  noisy,  but  he  felt  pretty 
fair.  Next  to  him  was  a  real  good  young 
man,  who  seemed  to  feel  his  superiority  a 
great  deal.  Very  soon  the  car  got  jammed 
full,  and  an  old  lady,  poorly  dressed,  but  a 
mighty  good,  motherly  old  woman,  I'll  bet  a 
hundred  dollars,  got  in.  Her  husband  asked 
the  good  young  man  if  he  would  kindly  give 
his  wife  a  seat.  He  did  not  apparently  hear 
at  all,  but  got  all  wrapped  up  in  his  paper, 
just  as  every  man  in  a  car  does  when  he  is 
ashamed  of  himself.  But  the  inebriated  young 
man  heard,  and  so  he  said: 

"Here,  mister,  take  my  seat  for  the  old 
lady;  any  seat  is  good  enough  for  me  " 
Whereupon  he  sat  down  in  the  lap  of  the  good 
young  man,  and  so  remained  till  he  got  to  his 
station. 

This  is  a  good  town  to  study  human  nature 
in,  Plenry,  and  you  would  do  well  to  come 
here  before  your  vacation  is  over,  just  to  see 
what  kind  of  people  the  Lord  allows  to  en 
cumber  the  earth.  It  will  show  you  how 
many  human  brutes  there  are  loose  in  the 
world  who  don't  try  any  longer  to  appear 
252 


ADVICE  TO  A  SON. 

decent  when  they  think  their  identity  is  swal 
lowed  up  in  the  multitude  of  a  great  city. 
There  are  just  as  selfish  folks  in  the  smaller 
towns,  but  they  are  afraid  to  give  themselves 
up  to  it,  because  somebody  in  the  crowd 
would  be  sure  to  recognize  them.  Here  a 
man  has  the  advantage  of  a  perpetual  nom  de 
plume,  and  he  is  tempted  to  see  how  pusillan 
imous  he  can  be  even  when  he  is  just  here  on 
a  visit.  I'm  going  home  next  week,  before 
I  completely  wreck  my  immortal  soul. 

I  left  your  mother  pretty  comfortable  at 
home,  but  I  haven't  heard  from  her  since  I 
left.  Your  father, 

BILL  NYE. 


253 


THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY 
XXVIII 

T  ITTLE  did  B.  Franklin  wot  when  he 
I—/  baited  his  pin  hook  with  a  good  con 
ductor  and  tapped  the  low  browed  and  bel 
lowing  storm  nimbus  with  his  buoyant  kite, 
thus  crudely  acquiring  a  pickle  jar  of  electric 
ity,  that  the  little  start  he  then  made  would  be 
the  egg  from  which  inventors  and  scientists 
would  hatch  out  the  system  which  now  not 
only  encircles  the  globe  with  messages  swifter 
than  the  flight  of  Phoebus,  but  that  anon  the 
light  of  day  would  be  filtered  through  a  cloud 
of  cables  loaded  with  destruction  sufficient  for 
a  whole  army,  and  the  air  be^-  filled  with 
death-dealing,  dangling  wires. 

Little  did  he  know  that  he  was  bottling  an 

agent  which  has  since  pulled  out  the  stopper 

with  its  teeth  and  grown  till  it   overspreads 

the  sky,  planting  its  bare,  bleak  telegraph  poles 

254 


THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY. 

along  every  highway,  carrying  day  messages 
by  night  and  night  messages  when  it  gets 
ready,  filling  the  air  with  its  rusty  wings — 
provided,  of  course,  that  such  agents  wear 
wings — and  with  the  harsh,  metallic,  ghoul 
ish  laughter  of  the  signal-key,  all  the  while 
resting  one  foot  on  the  neck  of  the  sender  and 
one  on  the  neck  of  the  recipient,  defying  ag 
gregated  humanity  to  do  its  worst,  and  com 
manding  all  civilization,  in  terse,  well-chosen 
terms,  to  either  fish,  cut  bait  or  go  ashore. 

Could  Benjamin  have  known  all  this  at  the 
time,  possibly  he  might  have  considered  it 
wisdom  to  go  in  when  it  rained. 

I  am  not  an  old  fogy,  though  I  may  have 
that  appearance,  and  I  rejoice  to  see  the 
world  move  on.  One  by  one  I  have  laid  aside 
my  own  encumbering  prejudices  in  order  to 
keep  up  with  the  procession.  Have  I  not 
gradually  adopted  everything  that  would  in 
any  way  enhance  my  opportunities  for  ad 
vancement,  even  through  tedious  evolution, 
from  the  paper  collar  up  to  the  finger  bowl, 
eyether,  and  nyether? 

This  should  convince  the  reader  that  I  am 
255 


THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY. 

not  seeking  to  clog  the  wheels  of  progress. 
I  simply  look  with  apprehension  upon  any 
great  centralization  of  wealth  or  power  in  the 
hands  of  any  one  man  who  not  only  does  as 
he  pleases  with  said  wealth  and  power,  but 
who,  as  I  am  informed,  does  not  read  my 
timely  suggestions  as  to  how  he  shall  use 
them. 

To  return,  however,  to  the  subject  of  elec 
tricity.  I  have  recently  sought  to  fathom  the 
style  and  motif  of  a  new  system  which  is  to 
be  introduced  into  private  residences,  hotels, 
and  police  headquarters.  In  private  houses 
it  will  be  used  as  a  burglar's  welcome .  In 
hotels  it  will  take  the  mental  strain  off  the 
bell-boy,  relieving  him  also  of  a  portion  of 
his  burdensome  salary  at  the  same  time.  In 
the  police  department  it  will  do  almost  every 
thing  but  eat  peanuts  from  the  corner  stands . 

I  saw  this  system  on  exhibition  in  a  large 
room,  with  the  signals  or  boxes  on  one  side 
and  the  annunciator  or  central  station  on  the 
other.  By  walking  from  one  to  the  other,  a 
distance  in  all  of  thirty  or  forty  miles,  I  was 
enabled  to  get  a  slight  idea  of  the  principle. 

256 


In  hotels  it  ivill  take  the  mental  strain  off  the  bell-boy,  re 
lieving  him  also  of  a  portion  of  his  burdensome  salary  at  the 
same  time  (Page  256) 


THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY. 

It  is  certainly  a  very  intelligent  system.  I 
never  felt  my  own  inferiority  any  more  than  I 
did  in  the  presence  of  this  wonderful  inven 
tion.  It  is  able  to  do  nearly  anything,  it 
seems  to  me,  and  the  main  drawback  appears 
to  be  its  great  versatility,  on  account  of  which 
it  is  so  complex  that  in  order  to  become  at 
all  intimate  with  it  a  policeman  ought  to  put 
in  two  years  at  Yale  and  at  least  a  year  at 
Leipsic.  An  extended  course  of  study  would 
perfect  him  in  this  line,  but  he  would  not  then 
be  content  to  act  as  a  policeman.  He  would 
aspire  to  be  a  scientist,  with  dandruff  on  his 
coat  collar  and  a  far-away  look  in  his  eye. 

Then,  again,  take  the  hotel  scheme,  for 
instance.  We  go  to  a  dial  which  is  marked 
Room  32.  There  we  find  that  by  treating  it 
in  a  certain  way  it  will  announce  to  the  clerk 
that  Room  32  wants  a  fire,  ice-water,  pens, 
ink,  paper,  lemons,  towels,  fire-escape,  Mil 
waukee  Sec,  pillow-shams,  a  copy  of  this 
book,  menu,  croton  frappe,  carriage,  laun 
dry,  physician,  sleeping-car  ticket,  berth- 
mark  for  same,  Halford  sauce,  hot  flat-iron 
for  ironing  trousers,  baggage,  blotter,  tidy 
17  257 


THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY. 

for  chair,  or  any  of  those  things.  In  fact,  I 
have  not  given  half  the  list  on  this  barometer 
because  I  could  not  remember  them,  though 
I  may  have  added  others  which  are  not 
there.  The  message  arrives  at  the  office, 
but  the  clerk  is  engaged  in  conversation 
with  a  lady.  He  does  not  jump  when  the 
alarm  sounds,  but  continues  the  dialogue. 
Another  guest  wires  the  office  that  he  would 
like  a  copy  of  the  Congressional  Record.  The 
message  is  filed  away  automatically,  and  the 
thrilling  conversation  goes  on.  Then  No. 
7-|  asks  to  have  his  mail  sent  up.  No.  25 
wants  to  know  what  time  the  'bus  leaves  the 
house  for  the  train  going  East,  and  whether 
that  train  will  connect  at  Alliance,  Ohio,  with 
a  tide-water  train  for  Cleveland  in  time  to 
catch  the  Lake  Shore  train  which  will  bring 
him  into  New  York  at  7 :  30,  and  whether  all 
those  trains  are  reported  on  time  or  not, 
and  if  not  will  the  office  kindly  state  why? 
Other  guests  also  manifest  morbid  curiosity 
through  their  transmitters,  but  the  clerk  does 
not  get  excited,  for  he  knows  that  all  these 
remarks  are  filed  away  in  the  large  black 

258 


THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY. 

walnut  box  at  the  back  of  the  office.  When 
he  gets  ready,  provided  he  has  been  through 
a  course  of  study  in  this  brand  of  business, 
he  takes  one  room  at  a  time,  and  addressing 
a  pale  young  "Banister  Polisher"  by  the 
name  of  "Front,"  he  begins  to  scatter  to 
their  destinations,  baggage,  towels,  morning 
papers,  time-tables,  etc.,  all  over  the  house. 
It  is  also  supposed  to  be  a  great  time-saver 
For  instance,  No.  8  wants  to  know  the  cor 
rect  time.  He  moves  an  indicator  around 
like  the  combination  on  a  safe,  reads  a  few 
pages  of  instructions,  and  then  pushes  a  but 
ton,  perhaps.  Instead  of  ringing  for  a  boy 
and  having  to  wait  some  time  for  him,  then 
asking  him  to  obtain  the  correct  time  at  the 
office  and  come  back  with  the  information, 
conversing  with  various  people  on  his  way 
and  expecting  compensation  for  it,  the  guest 
can  ask  the  office  and  receive  the  answer 
without  getting  out  of  bed.  You  leave  a 
call  for  a  certain  hour,  and  at  that  time 
your  own  private  gong  will  make  it  so  disa 
greeable  for  you  that  you  will  be  glad  to  rise. 
Again,  if  you  wish  to  know  the  amount  of 
259 


THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY. 

your  bill,  you  go  through  certain  exercises 
with  the  large  barometer  in  your  room;  and, 
supposing  you  have  been  at  the  house  two 
days  and  have  had  a  fire  in  your  room  three 
times,  and  your  bill  is  therefore  $132.18,  the 
answer  will  come  back  and  be  announced  on 
your  gong  as  follows:  One,  pause,  three, 
pause,  two,  pause,  one,  pause,  eight.  When 
there  is  a  cipher  in  the  amount  I  do  not  know 
what  the  method  is,  but  by  using  due  care  in 
making  up  the  bill  this  need  not  occur. 

For  police  and  fire  purposes  the  system 
shows  a  wonderful  degree  of  intelligence,  not 
only  as  a  speedy  means  of  conveying  calls 
for  the  fire  department,  health  department, 
department  of  street  cleaning,  department  of 
interior  and  good  of  the  order,  but  it  furnishes 
also  a  method  of  transmitting  emergency 
calls,  so  that  no  citizen — no  matter  how  poor 
or  unknown — need  go  without  an  emergency. 
The  citizen  has  only  to  turn  the  crank  of  the 
little  iron  marten-house  till  the  gong  ceases 
to  ring,  then  push  on  the  "Citizens'  button," 
and  he  can  have  fun  with  most  any  emergen 
cy  he  likes.  Should  he  decide,  however,  to 
260 


THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY. 

shrink  from  the  emergency  before  it  arrives, 
he  can  go  away  from  there,  or  secrete  himself 
and  watch  the  surprise  of  the  ambulance 
driver  or  the  fire  department  when  no  man 
gled  remains  or  forked  fire  fiend  is  found  in 
that  region. 

This  system  is  also  supposed  to  keep  its 
eye  peeled  for  policemen  and  inform  the  cen 
tral  station  where  each  patrolman  is  all  the 
time;  also  as  to  his  temperature,  pulse,  per 
spiration  and  breath.  It  keeps  a  record  of 
this  at  the  main  office  on  a  ticker  of  its  own, 
and  the  information  may  be  published  in  the 
society  columns  of  the  papers  in  the  morning. 
It  enables  a  citizen  to  use  his  own  discretion 
about  sounding  an  alarm.  He  has  only  to 
be  a  citizen.  He  need  not  be  a  tax-payer  or 
a  vox  populi.  Should  he  be  a  citizen,  or  de 
clare  his  intention  to  become  such,  or  even 
though  he  be  a  voter  only,  without  any  no 
tion  of  ever  being  a  citizen,  he  can  help  him 
self  to  the  fire  department  or  anything  else 
by  ringing  up  the  central  station. 

Electricity  and  spiritualism  have  arrived  at 
that  stage  of  perfection  where  a  coil  of  cop- 
261 


THE  AUTOMATIC  BELL  BOY. 

per  wire  and  a  can  of  credulity  will  accom 
plish  a  great  deal.  The  time  is  coming  when 
even  more  surprising  wonders  will  be  worked, 
and  with  electric  wires,  the  rapid  transit  trains, 
and  the  English  sparrows  all  under  the  ground, 
the  dawn  of  a  better  and  brighter  day  will  be 
ushered  in.  The  car-driver  and  the  truck 
man  will  then  lie  down  together,  Boston  will 
not  rise  up  against  London,  he  that  heretofore 
slag  shall  go  forth  no  more  for  to  slug,  and 
the  czar  will  put  aside  his  tailor-made  boiler- 
iron  underwear  and  fearlessly  canvass  the 
nihilist  wards  in  the  interest  of  George  Ken- 
nan  and  reform,  nit. 


THE  END. 


262 


AN  ARTICLE  ON  THE  WRITINGS  OF 

JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY 

BY  "CHELIFER" 


THE  AMBROSIA  OF  JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY. 

"Chelifer"  in  "The  Bookery."— Godey's  Magazine. 

There  are  writers  that  take  Pegasus  on  giddier 
flights  of  fancy,  and  writers  that  sit  him  more  grandly, 
and  writers  that  put  him  through  daintier  paces,  and 
writers  that  burden  him  with  anguish  nearer  that  of 
the  dread  Rider  of  the  White  Horse,  and  there  are 
writers  that  make  him  a  very  bucking  broncho  of  wit, 
but  there  is  no  one  that  turns  Pegasus  into  just  such 
an  ambling  nag  of  lazy  peace  and  pastoral  content  as 
James — I  had  almost  said  Joshua  Whitcomb — Riley. 
If  you  want  a  panacea  for  the  bitterness  and  the  fret 
and  the  snobbishness  and  pretension  and  unsympathy 
and  the  commercial  ambition  and  worry  and  the  other 
cankers  that  gnaw  and  gnaw  the  soul,  just  throw  a  leg 
over  the  back  of  Riley's  Pegasus,  "perfectly  safe  for 
family  driving,"  let  the  reins  hang  loose  as  you  sag 
limply  in  your  saddle,  and  gaze  through  drowsy  eyes 
while  the  amiable  old  beast  jogs  down  lanes  blissful 
with  rural  quietude,  through  farm-yards  full  of  pic 
turesque  rustics  and  through  the  streets  of  quaint  vil 
lages.  Then  utter  rest  and  a  peace  akin  to  bliss  will 
possess  your  soul. 

To  make  readers  content  with  life  and  glad  to  live  is 
one  of  the  most  dazzlingly  magnificent  deeds  in  the 
power  of  an  artist.  This  is  too  little  appreciated  in 
the  melodramatic  theatricism  of  our  life.  This  genius 
for  soothing  the  reader  with  a  pathos  that  is  not  an 
guish  and  a  humor  that  is  not  cynicism,  this  genius  be- 

264 


JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY. 

longs  to  Mr.  Riley  in  a  degree  I  have  found  in  no 
other  writer  in  all  literature. 

Of  course,  Mr.  Riley  is  essentially  a  lyric  poet.  But 
his  spirit  is  that  of  Walt  Whitman;  he  speaks  the  uni 
versal  democracy,  the  equality  of  man,  the  hatred  of 
assumption  and  snobbery,  that  our  republic  stands  for, 
if  it  stands  for  anything.  Now  downright  didacti 
cism  in  a  poet  is  an  abomination.  But  if  a  poet  has 
no  right  to  ponder  the  meanings  of  things,  the  feelings 
of  man  for  man  and  the  higher  "criticism  of  life,"  then 
no  one  has.  If  to  Pope's  "The  proper  study  of  man 
kind  is  man,"  you  add  "nature"  and  "nature's  God,11 
you  will  fairly  well  outline  the  poet's  field. 

Mere  art  (Heaven  save  the  "mere"!)  is  not,  and  has 
never  been,  enough  to  place  a  poet  among  the  great 
spirits  of  the  world.  It  has  furnished  a  number  of 
nimble  mandolinists  and  exquisite  dilettants  for  lazy 
moods.  But  great  poetry  must  always  be  something- 
more  than  sweetmeats;  it  must  be  food — temptingly- 
cooked,  winningly  served,  well  spiced  and  well  accom 
panied,  but  yet  food  to  strengthen  the  blood  and  the 
sinews  of  the  soul. 

Therefore  I  make  so  bold  as  to  insist  that  even  in  a 
lyrist  there  should  be  something  more  than  the  pros 
perity  or  the  dirge  of  personal  amours:  there  should 
be  a  sympathy  with  the  world-joy,  the  world-suffer 
ing,  and  the  world-kinship.  It  is  this  attitude  toward 
lyric  poetry  that  makes  me  think  Mr.  Riley  a  poet 
whose  exquisite  art  is  lavished  on  humanity  so  deep- 
sounding  as  to  commend  him  to  the  acceptance  of  im 
mortality  among  the  highest  lyrists. 

Horace  was  an  acute  thinker  and  a  frank  speaker  on 
the  problems  of  life.  This  didacticism  seems  not  to 
265 


THE  AMBROSIA  OF 

have  harmed  his  artistic  welfare,  for  he  has  undoubt 
edly  been  the  most  popular  poet  that  ever  wrote. 
Consider  the  magnitude  and  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
audience!  He  has  been  the  personal  chum  of  every 
one  that  ever  read  Latinity.  But  Horace,  when  not 
exalted  with  his  inspired  preachments  on  the  art  of 
life  and  the  arts  of  poetry  and  love,  was  a  bitter  cynic 
redeemed  by  great  self-depreciation  and  joviality.  The 
son  of  a  slave,  he  was  too  fond  of  court  life  to  talk 
democracy. 

Bobby  Burns  was  a  thorough  child  of  the  people, 
and  is  more  like  Mr.  Riley  in  every  way  than  any 
other  poet.  Yet  he,  too,  had  a  vicious  cynicism,  and 
he  never  had  the  polished  art  that  enriches  some  of 
Mr.  Riley's  non-dialectic  poetry,  as  in  parts  of  his 
fairy  fancy,  "The  Flying  Islands  of  the  Night." 

Burns  never  had  the  versatility  of  sympathy  that 
enables  Mr.  Riley  to  write  such  unpastoral  master 
pieces  as  "Anselmo,"  "The  Dead  Lover,"  "A  Scrawl," 
"The  Home-going,"  some  of  his  sonnets,  and  the  noble 
verses  beginning 

"A  monument  for  the  soldiers ! 
And  what  will  ye  build  it  of  ?" 

Yet  it  must  be  owned  that  Burns  is  in  general  Mr. 
Riley's  prototype.  Mr.  Riley  admits  it  himself  in  his 
charming  verses  "To  Robert  Burns." 

"Sweot  singer,  that  I  lo'e  the  maist 
O'  ony,  sin'  wi'  eager  haste 
I  smacket  bairn  lips  ower  the  taste 
O'  hinnied  sang." 

The  classic  pastoral  poets,  Theokritos,  Vergandil, 
the  others,  sang  with  an  exquisite  art,  indeed,  yet  their 

266 


JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY. 

farm-folk  were  really  Dresden-china  shepherds  and 
shepherdesses  speaking  with  affected  simplicity  or 
with  impossible  elegance.  Theokritos,  like  Burns  and 
Riley,  wrote  partly  in  dialect  and  partly  in  the  stand 
ard  speech,  and  to  those  who  are  never  reconciled  to 
anything  that  can  quote  no  "authority,"  there  should 
be  sufficient  justification  for  dialect  poetry  in  this  di 
vine  Sicilian  musician  of  whom  his  own  Goatherd 
might  have  said  °. 

"Full of  fine  honey  thy  beautiful  mouth  was,  Thyrsis,  created— 
Full  of  the  honeycomb ;  figs  J3gilean,  too,  mayost  thou  nibble, 
Sweet  as  they  are ;  for  ev'n  than  the  locust  more  bravely  thou 
singest." 

I  have  no  room  to  argue  the  pro's  of  dialect  here,  but 
it  always  seems  strange  that  those  lazy  critics  who  are 
unwilling  to  take  the  trouble  to  translate  the  occa 
sional  hard  words  in  a  dialect  form  of  their  own 
tongue,  should  be  so  inconsistent  as  ever  to  study  a 
foreign  language.  Then,  too,  dialect  is  necessary  to 
truth,  to  local  color,  to  intimacy  with  the  character 
depicted.  Besides,  it  is  delicious.  There  is  something 
mellow  and  soul-warming  about  a  plebeian  metathesis 
like  "congergation."  What  orthoepy  could  replace 
lines  like  these?: 

"Worter,  shade  and  all  so  mixed,  don't  know  which  you'd 

orter 
Say,  th'  worter  in  the  shadder— shadder  in  the  worter!" 

One  thing  about  Mr.  Riley's  dialect  that  may  puzzle 
those  not  familiar  with  the  living  speech  of  the  Hoos- 
iers,  is  his  spelling,  which  is  chiefly  done  as  if  by  the 
illiterate  speaker  himself.  Thus  "rostneer-time"  and 
"ornry"  must  be  ^Eolic  Greek  to  those  barbarians  who 

267 


THE  AMBROSIA  OF 

have  never  heard  of  "roasting-ears"  of  corn  or  of  that 
contemptuous  synonym  for  "vulgar,"  "common," 
which  is  smoothly  elided,  "or(di)n(a)ry."  Both  of 
these  words  could  be  spelled  with  a  suggestive  and 
helpful  use  of  apostrophes:  "roast'n'-ears"and  or'n'ry." 

Jumbles  like  "jevver"  for  "did  you  ever?"  and  the 
like  can  hardly  be  spelled  otherwise  than  phonetically, 
but  a  glossary  should  be  appended  as  in  Lowell's 
"Biglow  Papers,"  for  the  poems  are  eminently  worth 
even  lexicon-thumbing.  Another  frequent  fault  of  di 
alect  writers  is  the  spelling  phonetically  of  words  pro 
nounced  everywhere  alike.  Thus  "enough"  is  spelled 
"enuff,"  and  "clamor,"  "clammer,"  though  Dr.  John 
son  himself  would  never  have  pronounced  them  other 
wise.  In  these  misspellings,  however,  Mr.  Riley 
excuses  himself  by  impersonating  an  illiterate  as  well 
as  a  crude-speaking  poet.  But  even  then  he  is  incon 
sistent,  and  "hollowing"  becomes  "hollerin',"  with  an 
apostrophe  to  mark  the  lost  "g" — that  abominable  im 
ported  harshness  that  ought  to  be  generally  exiled  from 
our  none  too  smooth  language.  Mr.  Riley  has  writ 
ten  a  good  essay  in  defense  of  dialect,  which  enemies 
of  this  form  of  literature  might  read  with  advantage. 

But  Mr.  Riley  has  written  a  deal  of  most  excellent 
verse  that  is  not  in  dialect.  One  whole  volume  is  de 
voted  to  a  fairy  extravaganza  called  "The  Flying  Is 
lands  of  the  Night,"  a  good  addition  to  that  quaint 
literature  of  lace  to  which  "The  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,"  Herrick's  "Oberon's  Epithalamium,"  or 
whatever  it  is  called,  "Drake's  "Culprit  Fay,"  and  other 
bits  of  most  exquisite  foolery  belong.  While  hardly  a 
complete  success,  this  diminutive  drama  contains  some 
curiously  delightful  conceits  like  this  "improvisation:" 
268 


JAMES  WHITCOMR  RILEY. 

"Her  face — her  brow — her  hair  unfurled  I — 
And  O  the  oval  chin  below, 
Carved,  like  a  cunning  cameo, 
With  one  exquisite  dimple,  swirled 
With  swimming  shine  and  shade,  and  whirled 
The  daintiest  vortex  poets  know — 
The  sweetest  whirlpool  ever  twirled 
By  Cupid's  finger- tip— and  so, 
The  deadliest  maelstrom  in  the  world  I" 

It  is  a  strange  individuality  that  Mr.  Rilej  has,  sug 
gesting  numerous  other  masters — whose  influence  hq 
acknowledges  in  special  odes — and  jet  all  digested 
and  assimilated  into  a  marked  individuality  of  his  own. 
He  has  studied  the  English  poets  profoundly  and  im 
proved  himself  upon  them,  till  one  is  chiefly  impressed, 
in  his  non-dialectic  verse,  with  his  refinement,  subtlety, 
and  ease.  He  has  a  large  vocabulary,  and  his  felicity 
is  at  times  startling.  Thus  he  speaks  of  water  "chuck 
ling,"  which  is  as  good  as  Horace's  ripples  that  "gnaw" 
the  shore.  Note  the  mastery  of  such  lines  as 
"And  the  dust  of  the  road  is  like  velvet." 

"Nothin'  but  green  woods  and  clear 
Skies  and  unwrit  poetry 
By  the  acre !" 

"Then  God  smiled  and  it  was  morning!" 
Life  is  "A  poor  pale  yesterday  of  Death." 

"And  O  I  wanted  so 
To  be  felt  sorry  for!" 

"Always  suddenly  they  are  gone, 
The  friends  we  trusted  and  held  secure." 

"At  utter  loaf." 
"Knee-deep  in  June." 

• — But  I  can  not  go  on  quoting  forever. 
269 


THE  AMBROSIA  OF 

Technically,  Mr.  Riley  is  a  master  of  surpassing 
finish.  His  meters  are  perfect  and  varied.  They  flow 
as  smoothly  as  his  own  Indiana  streams.  His  rimes 
are  almost  never  imperfect.  To  prove  his  own  under 
standing  he  has  written  one  scherzo  in  technic  that  is 
a  delightful  example  of  bad  rime,  bad  meter,  and  the 
other  earmarks  of  the  poor  poet.  It  is  "Ezra  House," 
and  begins: 

"Come  listen,  good  people,  while  a  story  I  do  tell 
Of  the  sad  fate  of  one  I  knew  so  passing  welll" 

The  "do"  and  the  "so"  are  the  unfailing  index  of 
crudity.  Then  we  have  rimes  like  "long"  and  "along" 
(it  is  curious  that  modern  English  is  the  only  tongue 
that  finds  this  repetition  objectionable);  "moon"  and 
"tomb,"  "well"  and  "hill,"  and  "said"  and  "denied"  are 
others,  and  the  whole  thing  is  an  enchanting  lesson  in 
How  Poetry  Should  Not  be  Written. 

Mr.  Riley  is  fond  of  dividing  words  at  the  ends  of 
lines,  but  always  in  a  comic  way,  though  Horace,  you 
remember,  was  not  unwilling  to  use  it  seriously,  as  in 
his 

." u- 

Xorms  amnis." 

Mr.  Riley's  animadversions  on  "Addeliney  Bower- 
sox"  constitute  a  fascinating  study  in  this  effect.  He 
is  also  devoted  to  dividing  an  adjective  from  its  noun 
by  a  line-end.  This  is  a  trick  of  Poe's,  whose  influence 
Mr.  Riley  has  greatly  profited  by.  In  his  dialect  poe 
try  Mr.  Riley  gets  just  the  effect  of  the  jerky  drawl  of 
the  Hoosier  by  using  the  end  of  a  line  as  a  knife,  thus: 

"The  wood's 

Green  again,  and  sun  feels  good's 
Junel" 

2/0 


JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY 

His  masterly  use  of  the  caesura  is  notable,  too.  See 
its  charming  despotism  in  "Griggsby  Station." 

But  it  is  not  his  technic  that  makes  him  ambrosial, 
not  the  loving  care  ad  unguem  that  smooths  the  un- 
couthest  dialect  into  lilting  tunefulness  without  depriv 
ing  it  of  its  colloquial  verisimilitude— it  is  none  of 
these  things  of  mechanical  inspiration,  but  the  spirit 
of  the  man,  his  democracy,  his  tenderness,  the  health 
and  wealth  of  his  sympathies.  If  he  uses  "memory" 
a  little  too  often  as  a  vehicle  for  his  rural  pictures,  the 
utter  charm  of  the  pictures  is  atonement  enough.  He 
has  caught  the  real  American.  He  is  the  laureate  of 
the  bliss  of  laziness.  His  child  poems  are  the  next  best 
thing  to  the  child  itself;  they  have  all  the  infectious  es 
sence  of  gayety,  and  all  the  naivete,  and  all  the  knife- 
like  appeal.  It  could  not  reasonably  be  demanded  that 
his  prose  should  equal  the  perfection  of  his  verse,  but 
nothing  more  eerie  has  ever  been  done  than  the  little 
story,  "Where  is  Mary  Alice  Smith?"  with  its  strange 
use  of  rime  at  the  end. 

Of  all  dialect  writers  he  has  been  the  most  versatile. 
Think  of  the  author  of  "The  Raggedy  Man"  or  "Or- 
phant  Annie"  writing  one  of  the  finest  sonnets  in  the 
language!  this  one  which  I  must  quote  here  as  a  noble 
ending  to  my  halt  praise: 

"Being  his  mother,  when  he  goes  away 
I  would  not  hold  him  overlong,  and  so 
Sometimes  my  yielding  sight  of  him  grows  O 
So  quick  of  tears,  I  joy  he  did  not  stay 
To  catch  the  faintest  rumor  of  them  1  Nay, 
Leave  always  his  eyes  clear  and  glad,  although 
Mine  own,  dear  Lord,  do  fill  to  overflow ; 


2/1 


JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY. 

"  Let  his  remembered  features,  as  I  pray, 
Smile  ever  on  me.    Ah !  what  stress  of  love 

Thou  givest  me  to  guard  with  Thee  thiswise : 

Its  fullest  speech  ever  to  be  denied 
Mine  own — being  his  mother !    All  thereof 

Thou  knowest  only,  looking  from  the  skies 

As  when  not  Christ  alone  was  crucified." 

Life  is  the  more  tolerable,  the  more  full  of  learned 
sympathy,  and  thereby  of  joy  and  value,  for  the  very 
existence  of  such  a  man. 


LIST  OF  ME.  RILEY'S  BOOKS. 

A  CHILD  WORLD.  (NEW.)  Tales  in  verse  of  childhood  days. 
Cloth,  12mo,  $1.25.  Half  calf,  $2.50.  Hand-made  Paper  edition, 
bound  uniform  with  "Old  Fashioned  Roses,"  $2. 

NEGHBORLY  POEMS,  including  "The  Old  Swimmin'  Hole," 
by  Benjamin  F.  Johnson,  of  Boone  (James  Whitcomb  Riley.) 
Cloth,  illustrated,  12mo,  $1.25.  Half  calf,  $2.50. 

SKETCHES  IN  PROSE,  and  Occasional  Verses.  Cloth,  $1.25. 
Half  calf,  $2.50. 

AFTERWHILES.  Sixtieth  thousand.  With  Portrait.  Cloth, 
$1.25.  Half  calf,  $2.50. 

PIPES  o'  PAN  AT  ZEKESBURY.  Five  Sketches  and  fifty  Poems. 
Cloth,  $1.25.  Half  calf,  $2.50. 

RHYMES  OF  CHILDHOOD.  Dialect  and  other  Verses.  With 
Portrait.  Cloth,  $1.25.  Half  calf,  $2.50. 

THE  FLYING  ISLANDS  OF  THE  NIGHT.  A  Fantastic  Drama  in 
Verse.  Cloth,  $1.25.  Half  calf,  $2.50. 

GREEN  FIELDS  AND  RUNNING  BROOKS.  Dialect  and  Serious 
Poems.  With  Portrait.  Cloth,  Illustrated,  $1.25.  Half  calf, 
$2.50. 

ARMAZINDY.  Hoosier  Harvest  Airs,  Feigned  Forms,  and 
Child  Rhymes.  Cloth,  $1.25.  Half  calf ,  $2.50. 

OLD  FASHIONED  ROSES.  A  selection  of  popular  Poems,  from 
Mr.  Riley's  Works.  Printed  in  England.  16mo,  uncut,  $1.75. 

AN  OLD  SWEETHEART  OF  MINE.  Illustrated  in  colors.  Ob 
long  4to,  $2.50. 

A  UNIFORM  EDITION  of  Mr.  Riley's  Works  in  9  volumes,  12mo, 
cloth,  per  set,  $11.25.  Half  calf,  9  volumes,  12mo,  per  set,  $22.50. 
Published  by  The  Bowen-Merrill  Co.,  Indianapolis  and  Kansas 
City.  Sent  post-paid  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  the  price. 

272 


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